Time and Again
by Sunruner
Summary: Hyrule's dirty, corrupt an' unfair. Surprised? Don't be. It's not about love or respect or findin' a home, it's about taking what you need 'fore someone gets it first. There're no Gods or Heroes; you mention fairies again an' I'll sock you a good one...
1. Prologue

**Hello! This is a sequel to my fic Matters of the State. It it NOT necessary to read Matters before this story however I can guarantee you will get buckets more information and enjoyment if you do _if only_ because of the names and how the story shapes up near the end. If you end up at a place later in this story where stuff is simply falling apart and you don't get it, it's probably a good sign that I'm making heavy references to events in the preceding story.**

**However, as of right now Aug-28-09, that should not be the case.**

**The bolding mid-way through the chapter isn't actually for reading emphasis. Rather, the effect I was going for is one where, if you just skim the bolded words, you get the proper sense of what's going on. It's more to set the mood than provide any sensory appeal. New story, new techniques. **

**If I end up _dropping_ this story or go an extended period without updating, please PM me and bother me for a bit to get me writing again. Chances are good that that's all I'll need. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

**Time and Again **

Prologue 

The low light of a single candle held the room in a deep crimson glow, an empty hearth had burned itself out during the night, and the lonely flame was just newly struck. The master of the chamber, of the very castle itself, stood before the tall standing mirror far across the rugs from the thick, four-poster bed where his wife lay sleeping. Her body swathed in white linens and soft blankets, swelling with the rich gift of the new life kindling within her, these were the foremost thought in his mind, but at this time; life was not something he was allowed to ponder.

The gentle creek of half-finger gloves and long arm guards was the only intrusive noise in their chambers, shared for nearly two years of their lives thus far. And that had certainly caused a commotion in and of itself; they had earned peace in their youth, but had needed to fight with words in order too validate their union. Had he not renounced any claim to positioning himself as King it was likely that life would have been made even more difficult for them than it could be all on its' own.

In his mind, he knew that he would greatly enjoy his wife's attentions when he returned. In his heart, however… he felt the crushing need to wake and embrace her, show his love for her in its' truest form, and –above all- to say goodbye. However, to say goodbye would mean some form of admittance that this danger may be more so than those he had come across before. Admittance that he may not return this time.

And what was more, here, in private; he may very well be forced to watch her cry. And that alone he knew would soften his nerve enough that he might not even go.

Oh, what a horrible lie. He frowned darkly into the mirror as those forbidden thoughts would not leave him. A lie, a lie! Already had he seen her tears; last night, and in this very chamber. An evening banquet in the castle's Grand Hall had been rudely interrupted by the tolling of temple bells. Warning enough of a summons? Nay, true warning had come with the abrupt, uncharacteristic silence of Farore's bells, her sword of Evil's bane appearing –utterly from the air which is her breath!- at his side in the hall. Its' royal blue wings fanned out to prop it up, golden crest shimmering in candle and torch light, the abrupt end to a dinner truly spoiled.

That sword was with him now, and he could not remove his eye from it's reflection in the mirror before him. Fine links of spelled chain mail glittered across his chest in the low light before his thick green tunic came down to hide the armor. The ancient sword stood at the ready, its' harness and scabbard all within perfect condition without his needing to attend to a single thing with them. The chilling efficiency of the gods… Soon, he would ride. Ride boldly through the pre-dawn darkness towards a destiny unknown.

Destiny? What destiny was this? Had he not paid his dues? Run rampant through time on so many occasions it was a miracle he had not lost himself in the flow? Had he not escaped death by the skin of his teeth so many times before that he must now continue to do so again? Where was his life through all of this? It was not out in the twilight with a sword in hand and no companionship save his thoughts. It was here, in this castle, in his chamber with his wife. His life was here, placing his ear against a swelling stomach and acting the fool as all men do in the face of things which they cannot ever comprehend.

And yet, he must still _go. _Go, and ride through that damnable darkness again… Did his spirit –in part- reside in the thrill of adventure? Did he not miss sleeping beneath the stars, and answering to no one but himself, acting as a part of the big picture instead of courtly scheming? Of course he did, somewhere in his blood he'd found all the skill and knowledge of the sword and lived by it. But by the gods he wanted this life _more!_

A small escort was readying itself below as he was now in his chambers, preparing to ride out with him towards that fate. There had been chilling rumors running rampant across the countryside for weeks now, dark things stirring in the shadows, evil powers resurrecting themselves in the midst of the Golden Land itself. It chilled him, those thoughts, those rumors and the possibilities they carried for the future. He had seen the future, so many times had he seen and walked through times before his own, had he been there for the sole purpose of undoing those realities and substituting for them the futures the Gods dictated.

These journeys through time had hurt him, yes, oh yes they had. But None so badly as his first venture. Through the very Door of Time itself had he walked, unaware as to what powers rested within. But it had been scarring none the less. His childhood had been stolen from him in a mass of bloody chaos. Had the woman from that future, who was his wife in this present, sent him back to his childhood to be a boy? Innocent and sweet and naïve to the world? Of course she had, even after a life of untold pain and strife, his Zelda was still his Queen.

But had it erased the memories? Never. It had not darkened the sense of terror which had slept within him for years afterwards. He had fled Hyrule itself as a boy for those years, darkness following him both in his mind and in the world itself. To the lands of Labrynna, Hollodrum, and Terminia he'd gone, always encountering some malevolence, always unable to deny the tug at his heart which made him fight and right the wrongs around him.

A holy knight, a paladin, people called him those things. Who was he to deny it? Did he not run to the beck and call of the Gods? Did he not fight in their name? Yes, yes he did. He used their powers, their weapons, their names and anything else which ever came to him over the course of those sleepless nights and overwhelming battles. He had seen other futures since then, few as terrible to behold as the very first, but perhaps that was only by comparison of what he had endured in his lifetime.

Not once in all the years past had he remembered to adjust the straps of the Master Sword so as to keep the leather from biting into his shoulder, and this pre-dawn dressing was no different. He scowled into the mirror as he rolled his shoulder experimentally, the twinge of the leather and the weight it held was familiar to him, too familiar. He picked his shield up off the floor and hooked it onto the blue and gold scabbard of the Master Sword to rest within easy reach incase it was needed, and turned once more to the bed.

He shouldn't touch her, he knew it. His mind solidly forbade nearing his wife where she remained in a deep slumber, but oh, the pain in his heart was not something he could deny. As gently as he could while still being able to touch her, he softly ran the tips of his fingers across her brow, stroking one cheek lovingly as he watched the even lengths of her breaths. A child, their child, his child, rested within her belly, and silently he swore to return before the birth. Bending down onto one knee, he leaned over her and gave her one final, parting kiss, his lips grazing her soft warm skin he feared she may not have even felt it in her dreams.

"Wait for me… and I'll return to you, my love."

* * *

'_The Reign of Her Royal Majesty the __**Queen Zelda III**__ was remarkable in its __**brief **__length and the __**tragedy **__of it as a whole. It is also seen as the return to Hyrule's __**downward**__ slide. _

_Prior to the reigns of Queen Zelda III and her father, __**King Adolphus I**__, Hyrule's monarch had been rampant with __**scandal**__ and the __**mis-management**__ of power and people. During the thirty years of the two monarch's separate reigns, this cycle of __**decay**__ was put on hiatus, but swiftly returned after the Queen's __**death**__._

_Short months after having assumed her throne as Queen, the legendary __**Hero**__ of Time, Chosen of Farore, and husband to the Queen, was called by the gods to seal an __**evil**__ which had reawakened within the kingdom's heart. Histories and documents of the time reveal that on this befouled day the voice of the Dark__** King**__ was heard booming across the land:_

'I shall take you now from that which gives you strength; the sweet nectar, the fruits of your labours. They shall remain barren of your touch, allowing the bounty of your spiteful gods to wither and fall upon my Goddess's barren earth. You shall stand tall, but only to see the blood of your sons splattered across the cracked ground!'

_The disappearance of the Hero was a __**dark omen**__ for many. With him went the Triforce Shard of __**Courage**__, as well as the legendary Master __**Sword**__ of Farore, which never reappeared within the __**Temple**__ of Time._

_By mid-winter of the same year, the Queen __**died**__ in childbed, her health having deteriorated due to un-named illness. It was not her Majesty but rather her royal cousin, Lord__** Salvin**__ of the __**Central Lanayru**__ province who named her son, the __**Prince Nohansen Hyrule**__, and oversaw the boy throughout his life._

_Prince Nohansen was a boy of rebellious spunk and __**resentment **__towards his position in life. He __**rejected**__ formality in a manner far more brash than his legendary father, and often spoke __**spitefully**__ of both parents and how despite their __**lack of presence**__ in his life, he was constantly restricted by them. Crowned upon his fifteenth birthing day, __**King Nohansen IV**__ never truly assumed his position in anything more than name. He took a young wife from the upper nobility and proceeded to have several children to pass on the __**throne **__which he never truly sat upon. Most __**matters of the state**__ were attended to by numerous lords, and overseen by the Lord __**Salvin**__. Despite his mother's __**death**__ some years before, the Triforce__** shard**__ of Wisdom never successfully reappeared within King Nohansen or any of his children thereafter._

_**King Nohansen V**__, son of King Nohansen IV, was a polite, soft-spoken child who was placed upon the throne when his father fell deathly ill and died__** eighteen years**__ into his reign. Many were fondly reminded of the Queen Zelda, his grandmother, and his __**great grandfather**__ King Adolphus I, when the young King was mentioned. Regrettably, an __**unfortunate**__ spill down a flight of steps in the palace while in the company of the young __**Lady Edith**__, granddaughter of the Lord Salvin, snapped his neck some months later. As a result his brother, __**King Darfus III**__, known for his __**foul **__temper and__** hatred**__ for responsibility, assumed the throne._

_Three years later, the Lady Edith of Central Lanayru became __**Queen Edith I**__._

_The genealogy of the royal __**family**__ becomes __**difficult**__ to follow after this point due to a sudden __**fire **__in the Royal Library some __**eighty**__ years after the death of King Darfus III. Reportedly, His Majesty __**King Mathias VII**__ entered the older areas of the Library with a candle one evening and fell asleep; this is the accepted explanation despite many __**rumors**__ at the time __**denouncing**__ his Majesty's __**literacy**__._

_Nearly __**two hundred**__ years after the __**disappearance**__ of the Hero of Time and the Triforce Shards of Wisdom and Courage, __**Queen Zelda IX**__ assumed the throne after a __**vicious**__ battle with __**Lady Cornelia**__ of LonLon city, who claimed her unborn child to be the product of an __**illicit union**__ with the late __**King Segev IV**__._

_Queen Zelda IX's first order as Reigning Monarch was the __**beheading**__ of Lady Cornelia, the armed __**assault**__ on LonLon city when rebellion broke out, and the '_Ordering'_ of Hylian society. Following the now timeless practice of pointed-eared members of society being of __**better stock**__ than those without- due to their being closer linked to the divine- Kakariko City, LonLon City, and other municipalities large and small were __**systematically **__searched, and round-eared business owners and crafts folk were __**forced**__ from their homes and into the countryside as labourers._

_The Ordering brought about a period of food surplus, which was sold off in large amounts to the far north east __**ten years**__ into Zelda XI's reign where the land of __**Labrynna **__was plagued by massive __**drought**__. The middle land of __**Hollodru**__**m**__ profited greatly during the __**famine**__, working together with Hyrule, grain was bought for higher-than-reasonable prices by the middle territory, and sold to the Labrynnian monarch for astonishing amounts. The end result of the famine five years later was the __**bankruptcy**__ of the country, and its reversion once more into a state of __**anarchy**__. Regrettably, unlike the fall of the __**Ambi **__house several hundred years prior, the land became overrun with __**warlords**__ and feuding houses._

_In the final years of Queen Zelda XI's reign, a massive __**military **__movement was brought about in partnership with the newly formed __**Republic**__ of Hollodrum. Twelve years of fighting later during the reign of __**Queen Zelda**__**XII,**__ Southern Labrynna became a colony of the __**Golden Land**__, and the northern sectors of the country were absorbed into the __**Republic**__._

_**Crescent Island**__ in Labrynna's southern seas declared its independence from Hyrule ten years later, and civil war erupted across the __**Tokay archipelago**__. The Colony of South Labrynna had amassed a large navy in the decade leading up to the war, and the Tokay rebellion was swiftly __**crushed**__. It would be another three centuries of __**enmity**__ and bitterness between the island colony and the motherland before the Republic of__** Brothers**__ emerged as an autonomous state. However, to this day, many Tokay cultural values and beliefs have been __**lost **__after years of __**oppression**__._

_Within Hylian boarders, enmity during the reign of __**King Salvin VI**__ led to a massive division between the four peoples of Hyrule. Beginning __**four hundred**__ years after the disappearance of the Hero, plague in the __**Gerudo Valley**__ in the west of Hyrule and the refusal of the monarch to address the__** issue**__ left the predominantly female population drastically__** weakened**__._

_Socially, a series of __**propaganda**__ was used revealing Gerudos as __**thieving**__ women of questionably __**low morals**__. They are often painted into legend as witches and __**demons**__. The __**standing**__ belief that the Sage of Spirit, the Gerudo __**Nobooru**__, was __**enslaved**__ by the Hero through the will of the Master Sword has little if any standing in Gerudo retellings. These are, of course, highly invalid. The __**Great Fires**__ of Din occurred as a stance of rebellion against the Crown and their __**refusal**__ to acknowledge the desert women. Several hundred __**Plague**__ survivors allowed themselves to __**die**__ in tribute to the Goddess __**Din**__ as they __**destroyed**__ her pinnacle shrine._

_There was never any response from the Capital, several surveyors were reportedly sent to measure the __**scope**__ of the damage, but __**no aid**__ was ever parceled out to the abused state. The desert, later re-named the __**Gerudo Mesa**__, eventually became the sight of a massive __**prison**__, and a fabled Mirror of __**power**__. The Prison was built over the ruins of Din's Temple, a supposedly __**sacrilegious**__ act, but carried through with none the less. By the reign of __**Princess Zelda XVII**__ however, the prison and temple were once more reduced to ruin through lack of maintenance, many fearing the dark monument to be__** cursed**__._

_Insulted by this lack of concern on the part of the Hylian Kings, both the __**Zora **__and __**Goron**__ tribes of the north pressured the monarchy to __**amend**__ their ways and make __peace. Needless to say, these discussions and demands were shrewdly met with coarse __**rebuttals**__ and sharp __**insults**__._

_During one __**fierce **__midnight storm in the high season of summer, tensions at last reached their breaking point, and the Palace came under __**attack**__. The outer gates of the city were bombarded by Goron brawn before the once-peaceful miners broke through to cause __**havoc**__ in the streets. Hyrule was ill prepared for such a strike, and sent as many soldiers as possible into the city to try and regain order. This left the palace itself poorly guarded and open to attack from __**within**__._

_The __**Water Corridor**__; a submerged wing of the Palace built for the comfort and pleasure of visiting Zora, was overrun with masked __**soldiers**__ and staff wielders. Blindsided by this, it was a cold and bloody night until the attacking parties found what they had been searching for; the __**Hero's Gem**__._

_The near forgotten day the Hero of Time was stolen from the Golden Land marked the discovery of the Hero's gem. According to accounts __**from the time**__, where the Hero had stood mere moments before, only a glittering __**emerald**__ remained. The Hero's Gem is the size of a man's palm, with a decidedly __**crimson sheen**__ to it in the light. The massive artifact is also rimmed in__** gold**__, with spiraling vines forming a base of sorts for it._

_Not all historians agree on the__** legitimacy**__ of the existence of the Hero's Gem. According to reports, up until the attack on the capital, the Hero's Gem was kept safe within the __**throne room**__ of Hyrule castle, as was decreed by the Hero's wife, one of the many Queen Zeldas. Afterwards, the location of the gem has been __**rumoured**__ to reside within the hands of either the Goron or Zora tribes, hidden high within their united state encompassing the northern half of the entire continent… Following this blow to Hylian lore came the reign of __**Princess Zelda XVII**__. The__** faulty**__ bearer of Wisdom…_

_Princess Zelda XVII is an __**anomaly**__ in the timeline of the Royal Family. Surviving her father __**King Ladkehan**__, the Princess Zelda XVII is the only __**known**__ bearer of the Triforce following her ancestor from the age of the Hero of Time._

_Regrettably, although logs of the time are sketchy at best, it is clear that some manner of __**war**__ –civil or otherwise- broke out across Hyrule for a period of nearly two years. Rumours from the time indicate that a __**Hero**__ emerged from the conflict to quell it, and popular belief even now is that this Hero was the successive bearer of the __**Triforce**__ of Courage. Unfortunately, all which records indicate of this man are his fierce, __**wildly blue eyes**__; and his coined title as __'The__** Hero of Wolves**__'…_

_Come the end of the conflict across Hyrule, the Royal castle was utterly__** destroyed**__ in a cataclysmic attack from the earth itself. The powerless Zelda was killed several months later at the build sight of the __**New Palace**__; an angry mob had risen in response to the rising costs and labours of rebuilding the __**faulty **__seat of power. The body of the Princess was later found buried under mounds of rubble, upon examination of her hands however it was later revealed that she was not the bearer of the Triforce. To this day the palace remains in a state of __**disrepair**__…_

_In the humble beliefs of an old man, it is the __**abandonment**__ of the people for their Gods, the three __**Great Mothers**__ of the heavens which have brought this plague of __monarchy upon the people. Elsewhere men and women live peacefully and prosper, whereas those of the Golden Land wallow in their own __**filth**__, fighting for survival._

_Even under the leadership of an __**elected**__ council of men, the Republic of Hollodrum prospers, the Temple of __**Seasons**__ standing with its doors open to those willing to pay homage to the forces of the Year. The Archipelago Brotherhood dance and sing in their __**heathen **__ways, and yet there is always__** food**__ for their young. Why then is the Golden Land of Hyrule the only place where men are only alike in that they are caked in __**grime**__? The Temple of Time lies in shambles! It is no wonder why the legendary Sword of Evil's Bane has not returned!_

_**Renounce thy faulty path! Give thanks to the Goddesses for their bountiful gifts! Repent! Re-**__'_

"Din's Flames, it's just another radical." With a loud thump, his hands came down over the thick cover of the tome, slamming it shut and regretting the action as a cloud of dust was kicked up. Hacking in surprise, a bitter curse passed his lips as the lone candle he'd been reading by was snuffed out. Brilliant.

"Flint, flint, fli- yeow!" Jumping blindly as his hand accidentally closed around the hot wax instead of the cold metal of the flint stick kept at the flame's base, a second bang was set off as the low ceiling connected with the top of his head. Stupid crawl spaces. Stupid books, stupid lack of _library_. If there weren't eight other boys with him back in his room, he could skip this whole mess and just read peacefully in there.

Forget flint. With a rough hiss and a puff of sour sulphur, one of the fire sticks tucked into his britches set itself aflame between his fingers. The tiny light flickered and wavered dangerously as a draft caught it between the old boards and settled stones. Green eyes watched as his steady hands brought bent wick and shy flame together, holding for a moment until the candle was lit again and he was sure not to blow both flames out with a sharp puff.

There wasn't much room down here, not at all. When he'd been younger there had been enough for him to sit up and make this his private little home, but the winter months had lengthened his legs, and made his feet widen clumsily. All you had to do too find this tunnel and the hundreds like it was move any of the un-mortared blocks littering the palace's corridors and back rooms. Of course, more than not you'd find an unsightly amount of rat droppings, or better yet one of the vermin themselves, but no one could find him when he escaped into the walls, so long as he was quiet they couldn't hear him under the floors.

Of course, it was always dark as sin in these places, one learned to stop fearing spiders soon after making habit of these forays. His only regret was that he hadn't been the first to find them, although he was sure by now that no one else knew of them, or if they did they'd become to big to crawl around inside. On the insides of every moveable block were these odd chains or groves, just right for a boy his size or smaller to stick his toes into and pull the blocks back into place with none the wiser. At all the twists and turns, there were small markings scratched on walls, one said _'Kitchen'_, -just a loaf of bread carved on the brick though- another, _'Throne room'-_ a crown- but he always liked this place better, he just had to crawl along the path marked,_ 'Hovel'_. A nest.

The Hovel. Even as a boy of eleven, he could still crawl in through the small portal and stand and even walk around a few steps. It was a small, circular chamber with only the one exit. It was black as sin like the rest of the crawlspaces, but bigger for a reason he hadn't thought of yet. He had no idea how many generations of boys it had taken to built the Hovel up to what it was now, but there were shelves scattered around under the three-foot high walls, a couple pockets dug out of the stones by rats and used by slave boys like him to hide marbles and bits of string in.

That was the odd thing though, other boys stashed food and toys and stolen goods in the Hovel-sometimes even books like the one he'd been reading. But him, he had something more worldly tucked away.

Holding his candle up carefully, now that winter was passing along he needed to make sure everything was in order for his leave-taking. Soon the stifling heat of summer would come rolling down from the mountains, and turn the tunnels and hollows into ovens fit to bake a boy or a rat. Shuffling on his knees towards one of the shelves, he rifled around for a moment before pulling out a hard bit of bread. Tearing off a small bit with his teeth, he chewed at the hard, unyielding bit before tossing the rest of the lump back down. No, he wasn't hungry enough to eat something from last season; it wasn't one of this morning's prizes for stealth.

Instead, he wiggled one of the smaller bricks loose from the wall to look at what was inside. He'd have to move his stash soon or wind up like the last boy who'd tried what he was at now. The crawlspaces were getting too small for him; he'd nearly gotten his ungodly large feet stuck in the grooves of the entry stone today. Inside the brick's hollow inside was a pouch, pulling it out, he was pleased with the weight as he judged it in his hand, putting the brick back and setting the candle down. Careful with the bag, he undid the drawstring and upended it over the stone floor.

"Seven, eight, nine…" Green shards of crystal struck the floor with a sweet tinkle of triumph, one precious blue the colour of a spring sky was nestled amongst them. Most importantly however was the sunny yellow of the smallest shard, only about as large as the pad of his thumb. The blue and the yellow alone brought his fund up to over fifteen rupees. Happy day indeed. "Twenty-one."

Carefully counting them once again as he gingerly dropped each tiny crystal back into the pouch, there was a grin on his face and a less than angelic twinkle in his green eyes. Tightening the pouch and hiding it once again, it was a shame to be leaving right as the good weather was fading, but he almost had enough money to keep him going. Besides, if he didn't leave soon, he wouldn't be able to fit through that tantalizing space labeled _'Outer Wall.'_ Well, technically it was a badly drawn sketch of the castle, and an arrow leading away from it. Freedom was just within sight, and greed wouldn't make him miss out.

Crawling back over to the abandoned tome on the dusty, dirty stone floor, he parted the pages carefully and looked over the splotchy cramped text of the writer. It was a shame the man had started spiraling off into rants about ancient gods. All those names were used for now were curses, just something people said without thinking.

'_The Hero's Gem is the size of a man's palm, with a decidedly crimson sheen to it in the light. The massive artifact is also rimmed in gold, with spiraling vines forming a base of sorts for it.'_

Tapping his fingers along the old yellowing pages, his smile grew a little less innocent, matching well with his eyes. Carefully, gingerly, he gripped the sides of the book, holding the bindings with one and the page in the other. A few moments later, the dry, dusty crackle of shredding paper flittered through the air, raising a bit of dust before two more drawn out rips left the Hovel in silence once again.

'_the location of the gem has been rumored to reside within the hands of either the Goron or Zora tribes, hidden high within their united state encompassing the northern half of the entire continent…' _With a rock like that, he could buy the crown if he pleased… Chuckling to himself mischievously, the two torn pages were folded over one another several times and slipped neatly into the pocket of his britches next to the fire sticks.

"Gods and their gold…"

* * *

**Well, now that I'm finished rambling, please review! This is as close to original fiction as I think I've ever come, it gets more Zelda-ish of course, but the next little while really doesn't seem that way. **


	2. Pegleg, Boss, Whimpers and Sneak

**Almost everyone in this story has a British accent. Why? Because they do. I can't do any of the dialogue early in this story in my head without someone talking like they're from the Isles. Maybe I'm subconsciously planning on making the Zora French. **

**Enjoy my laborious achievement…**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Pegleg, Boss, Whimpers and Sneak

_Tut-tut-pup, tut-tut-pup..._

"Lame Leg! Lame Leg! Can't run forever!"

No, but he could try, couldn't he? The dist-stained corridors of the palace blurred beyond the smudged surfaces of the lenses bouncing up and down on his nose. Already his palms and face were growing sweaty, both from the effort of running as well as the nausea kicking up in his stomach.

_Tut-tut-pup, tut-tut-pup..._

A cane made from a snapped table leg was all that was keeping him upright, it's rounded foot holding the matted ratty old carpets of red underfoot while it's splinter-laden head bit angrily into his hand. There was a dull pain coiling tightly around his hips and spiraling down both legs, he wouldn't be able to keep going for much longer.

"Psych!" He knew it was coming too late to do anything more than snap his eyes shut. The strong sound of footsteps thundering down the hall towards him was terrifying, a sharp clap across the back of his head sending the frail boy spiraling down to the ground. It was through some divine grace that his glasses didn't snap with the fall.

"Ow! No! Please stop!" A weight was suddenly pressing down on his back as an arm hooked around his neck. Choking at the force of the hold, he could hear the two other boys laughing gleefully.

"Hold 'im like that! Hold 'im!" Ahh! It hurt...!! His spine was bent up to keep his neck from snapping back. He just clawed weakly at the arm around him, trying to ease the strain of being pulled around like well-kneaded dough.

"Well now, what's all this then?" He heard the voice and the footsteps before anything else was made clear to him, the lenses of his specs pressing down against the stone floor and the grimy surface of his cheeks to blind him. There was a sharp, painful yank though, and it made him cry out in alarm as his head was nearly squeezed right off his neck like a cork from a bottle.

Whatever it was got the other boy off him though, the sounds of boys shouting and soft soled shoes scuffing against the dirty floor surrounding him as he groped for his walking stick. A foot or a leg or something else came at him from the side, and he heard the wood and wire of his specs go skittering across the floor. The sound of his panicked breathing and thumping heart quickly filled his ears, oi, he was in for it now if he couldn't find his specs!

"Here, Pegleg, I got 'em." A familiar voice floated down to him in the midst of the swirling browns and grays of the corridor and the other boys' clothes. He smiled up adoringly at the voice and blur with it's crown of fuzzy gilt gold hair. His fingers closed around the offered specs, and he spat on the lenses to clean them off.

"T-thanks, Boss…" He stuttered, rubbing the lenses on the front of his vest as the blurred boy moved about, the echo of wood on stone meaning his stick hadn't gone far.

The world in focus once more, the small boy looked up into the wide grin and tousled hair of the one he called_ 'Boss'_. A full four winters older than Pegleg, the ruddy robin red of his castle tunic was a marvelous piece to behold compared to the lame boy's vest of a similar hue. The rough head of the table-leg in hand, the Scribe's aid wobbled to his feet, his older friend helping him with an outstretched hand.

" Bell rang for Mid Meal," He panted, not having noticed he was still out of breath, but taking a few deep breaths to calm down. "Missed it, didn' I, Boss?"

"SNAKE! LEGGO!" Jumping so as to nearly drop his stick, Boss had to keep him steady as the shriek filled the sunlit corridor. The both of them looked, the dirty brown stones of the castle made it hard to pick the two out, but after a moment, Peg let out a little squeak.

Face down against the stone similar to how he'd been held moments before, a thin wiry boy half a season Pegleg's junior was seated on the back of one of the bullies.

"It's Sneak, not Snake, Bumpkin." The wry boy sneered, the tone spritzing Pegleg's brow with a bit of cold sweat. He hated being talked to that was, 'specially by the small boy in front of him.

"Let 'im go, Sneak. Done's done." Boss's broken voice of manhood cut into the little badger going on between bully and bully-beater. Sneak's mint green eyes sliding towards the two of them impassively. Finally, after a long, drawn-out moment, he dropped his arm from around the neck of the one boy who'd chased Pegleg down the better half of the servant's wing.

Standing, he gave him a kick in the ribs for sport. The lame boy flinched.

"Get ye gone." Boss said in a strong manner, referring to the boy whose hay-speckled tunic and trousers marked him a stable hand. Clearly un-nerved about having been taken down by a smaller boy he probably hadn't seen coming, the dark-haired stable hand started on a brisk walk down the corridor, and out of sight, leaving the three other boys alone. Boss sighed.

"You a'ight, Pegleg?" The older boy asked, a smile tugging at his wide mouth as he looked fondly at the scribe. Pegleg felt himself trying to stand a bit straighter, wanting to make the slight hunch in his back less noticeable as Boss spoke to him. The livered serving boy had a sort of tug around him that no one could escape, especially not the younger boys like Pegleg and Sneak. In fact, even the older servants couldn't find it to hate Boss, although they called him by his real name- Accolon- and not the title the younger ones had given him. A big brother; their Boss.

"Proud enough, Pegleg?" Came a half-yawned comment from Sneak, who was fiddling with a small knife he'd probably procured from the kitchens. He was absently gouging into the wall, chipping the older mortar away from between the bricks. Pegleg swallowed as Sneak smirked at him in that aloof manner.

"Boss an I missed Mid Meal t' save your sorry hide." Pegleg paled, quickly turning back towards Boss's grimace and feeling crestfallen.

"Sneak, you'll dull the blade if you keep that up…"

"You didn't, did ye?" Pegleg asked, feeling a tightness grip his chest as Boss stopped chiding the wry boy and gave a mild shrug. "Oh, Boss I'm s' sorry!"

"Hey! I missed meal time too!" Sneak hissed, pushing off of the wall and sheathing the small knife like he'd been told. It was part of their Boss's draw, not even Sneak, who could get beaten twice as hard or not at all depending on his nature, ever spoke out against Boss. The grimy grey of his work shirt was scuffed with black along the arms and knees. Sneak's face had traces of black soot along the nose, and evenly spread across his cheeks and brow. The scribe couldn't help but wonder how one of the castle's three stove boys often went the longest without meals.

"Don't fret it so much." Boss interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand, calling Pegleg's attention solely to him once again. "Sneak can sneak 'imself a bite or two whenever cook's not watching. If he wants, I can drop a tray or two so he can stuff some down his britches."

Sneak muttered something black under his breath, but Pegleg couldn't hear it quiet right, so tried not to let it bother him. Boss's wide face suddenly split into a cheerful and open grin, something he was famous for; it helped still the strap sometimes too…

"Here now, nearly slipped my mind." Reaching down the collar of his ruddy tunic, Boss fumbled down for a moment or two. It was fortunate to be down in the safety of the servant's wing, no task master could come by at this time of day. Because if they did, it'd likely be a switching for the lot of them as Boss pulled out a thick hunk of bread. With small bits of dried grape shredded up in it no less!

"Even managed a lick of butter too." He said cheerfully, tearing the half-loaf between his lengthening hands, dealing out both crust and crumb evenly into quarters. Pegleg almost jumped as Sneak's hand came as if from the air and snatched a hunk only just largest of the three.

The bread was soft and fresh, still warm even from the ovens further into the castle. The warm kitchens were as nest-egg on which the rest of the palace sat like a nasty old crow. Pegleg was sure to chew slowly, savoring the sweetness of the dried fruits. This must've come from the king's breakfast itself!

"Three boys fed; one piece left." Boss mused around a mouthful, holding the fourth portion in one hand absently as he chewed his own. Sneak's hand came out like a flash, not grabbing like before, but held palm up expectantly for the last piece. However, Boss just frowned and shook his head, and Sneak almost faded into the very stones of the palace wall with his frustration.

"The new boy then?" Pegleg offered shyly, thinking quickly as he glanced out the sunny windows. This was one of the only stretches of the Servant's wing with windows. They were standing to look out into one of the castle's minor courtyards; the vegetable garden and herb beds laying dead after the harsh winter they'd all just endured. The first really warm days were still a few weeks off, and what with the dry cold still licking at the exposed stones and frosted beds there were no liveried bodies trying to break and churn up the gray soil just yet.

"Yeah, he's still locked up by the sounds of it…" Sighing softly, Boss's hopeful eyes slowly drifted down, having been watching the swaying leaves of the cabbage and rosemary plants. "Ten days now."

"Sloppy mistakes, 'is own fault." Sneak's sharp words cut into the soft melancholy which had been wrapping around Pegleg from Boss, the lame boy rounded on him with a disappointed look.

"Oh, hush now! You don't know what it's like!." He said, unusually bold, and earning himself a challenging look from the younger boy. "You really don't, Sneak, you've always been in 'ere!"

"Least I don' sit in there weeping with my head 'tween m' legs!" Was the scathing retort, and the scribe shrunk back slightly as the youngest of the three leered at him spitefully. In five of his twelve years, Pegleg still hadn't learned why Sneak wasn't amongst the boys who liked to steal his specs and trip him down the corridors. He certainly seemed the type…

" 'nuff said! Peace!" Boss said sharply, cutting them off and giving Pegleg a gentle look to leave thrice-said things unsaid for once. Sneak just crossed his arms in a bitter manner.

"What, you want us to go scamperin' down there 'gain like rats in a maze?" Sneak said scathingly, questioning Boss in a way Pegleg never understood. None of the other boys did either. You didn' talk to your older brother that way, born int' castle duties or brought in from th' outside. Didn' matter..

"Better out here than in there." Boss said calmly, lowering his voice a bit and looking down the dark passages stretching beyond the light of the windows. As nice as this hall was in summer and spring, it'd been drafty wet and cold all winter long. But Boss never seemed to mind the seasons that much, probably part of his breeding though… His light eyes just found the gray cloud cover of the sky, and his voice took on a dreamer's tone.

"And better out there, than in here… Think of it, lads…" Wistful, that was how he sounded, but Pegleg couldn't help it; his own eyes were slowly pulled up to the listless blanket of cotton draped over their world. The summer would burn away all the clouds, revealing the pale grey-blue of the sky for their imaginations to run wild across. But now the clouds made him think instead of the endless hills awaiting them beyond the walls of the palace and the city… What a dream world…

"Soon, we'll be out of here, so how can we just leave someone in there? All alone, in the dark with the wet and the rats… We're gonna be free…" That smile, that strong, heartfelt smile, he turned it full of energy towards him, and like every other boy in the smelly, mildew-ridden boys chambers, he felt like he could do anything with Boss at the head.

"My da wouldn't have let someone suffer down in those rank dungeons without some comfort or measure of peace. We can't take everyone, though it'd be the best if we could. But that boy down there, I'm sure my da'd tell us to take him. He only jus' came here. Know what Mistress Thuma was sayin? Poor lad, his own da caught the fever winter last. 'is mum tried keepin' 'im, but couldn't manage it. And now 'e's down there…"

_Tut-tut-pup, tut-tut-pup..._

They were walking now, Pegleg following Boss's taller form and his whimsical speech, like a lame puppy trailing a mighty hound. But he didn't care, so long as Boss led the way, all would be well…

_Tut-tut-pup, tut-tut-pup... _

* * *

Leaning against the wall, Sneak rolled his eyes. Giving a sigh, he flipped his small blade out once, looking over the scratched edge and unwilling to admit to the dullness of it after scratching at the stones so much…

"Mental… Both of em. Complete loons…"

But still, he followed. Never the less, he followed.

* * *

Cold and wet and dark and cold… Nothing friendly, no light at all. Sometimes the light from the slot in the door, the slot where the cold dish came in and slipped away.

Never silent, always dripping, sometimes voices even. Then the doors would open and a breath of hair half again as fresh as that within would rush forth. Relief, utter relief, especially for one who'd relieved himself in the corner, like a feeble mutt, unwanted and forgotten. Always came air with the open door, but then shouting, words like ice following on the heels of the icy water sprayed down cross him if he didn't get up and beg like a good mutt ought to.

He'd stopped screaming to be let out on the first day, he learned after the icy woman doused him the first time to stop because it was annoying them. But who they were he didn't know. Didn't know anything, him. Didn't even know where home was, but that was what he'd cried out for; home. Why didn't they let him go back? Back to the tiny hole in the city where his mum and dad and him had always lived? His dad, he was sleeping all deep and some back home. He'd coughed and wheezed all winter long, then one morn when he'd crawled up to his cot t' check on him, he hadn't moved in the slightest, not even breathed.

Should he not have told his mum? She threw such a maddening fit when she stood over his silent face, eyes closed an sleepin' all peaceful like he hadn' in weeks. They'd spent only three days in their home before a man with arms like tree trunks all covered with heavy black hair had stood in their doorway. There'd been shouting that night, lots of shouting. But his dad hadn't woken up, not stirred in the least, mum had put a white sheet o'er him from head to foot, but still, his dad hadn't moved. He was probably still there, layin' on his cot. But him and his mum, they'd been sleeping outside the tavern hall, and he'd thought it so grand. Like campers in the stories. Moon had hardly waxed and waned b'fore they'd walked a part of the city he'd ne'er seen.

He'd felt so proud, like a good boy, being rewarded- though for what he hadn't thought to ponder- up the great hill they'd gone, through the iron gates quartering the path. He'd seen soldiers in the city often enough; haunting taverns mostly, 'specially that one where they'd spent those nights under the stars. So the ones they met at the gates were no surprise to him.

Instead, he'd been more excited to look up and see the towers of the castle than anything else. It was so hard to see from the part of the city where they lived. To think, he'd been coming with his mum up to the place where the king himself and his little princess lived! Amazing! He'd been beside himself as they came closer and closer, the bony fingers of the topless towers stretching into the grey sky like fish bones, or a feast bird clean-picked.

But… then his mum's hand had slipped out of his. There'd been talk and loud voices around him, and another woman in skirts- the one who came now with the cold water and loud shouts- had ghosted into view. Her hands, they felt like ice, just like her voice and her water. What was the name of the magic thing in his dad's stories, the one who used water as her magic; her name? What had it been? That woman, a goddess, was supposed to be kind. This woman, the one of ice… well…

He hadn't even seen his mum's face under the glare of the cloudy sky. Only seen the black gates rattle shut, felt the ice woman's hands grip his arms before nearly taking him off his feet. When he broke away from her, he scrambled and ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He'd felt as though he could fly; almost had, hadn't he? Into the grey sky and through the pale light of the late and fading day, nearly upped like a bird over the gates and back to his mum, so they could sleep under the stars again and wait for his dad to wake up again.

Well… he hadn't flown, though he'd come close. Instead, he woke up, but still didn't think the waking up had been real; after all, there'd been no light when he woke up, just this fierce pain in his head; something nasty that. Ten days ago. Only the dark, and the cold, and the wet. And the icy water and cold voice when the ice woman visited him, and he only had to say one thing before she'd slam the door shut again, leaving the cold metal dish on the floor with his hard bread to nibble on…

'_Can I go home now?'_ …No, not yet it seemed… but soon, hopefully, soon he'd go home. Back to his mum, and his sleeping dad, and their little niche in the city that smelt always of his dad's wooden craft and mum's hot breads…

He could almost taste mum's sweets and baking when the sound of the door hinges gave him a start. Even with the cold and the wet, he made himself sit up like a good mutt ought to. His eyes were wide even as the ruddy red lights beyond hurt him as they came in through the open portal, and he brought his hands up and rubbed at them trying to ease the burning. The air came too, and that was relief, somewhat warmer, but fresher by far than the closed space and all it's filth where he'd been sitting all these days and blurring nights. Was he even within the castle anymore? It seemed more something like a nasty dungeon for evil people to be kept in, not a boy like him who only wanted his mum to come and take him home again. Even though he knew it better he not ask it, his lips moved and his voice sounded before he could help himself.

"Can I go home now?" How faint his voice sounded, like a weak puppy kicked several times, but still coming back hoping for kindness...

"Look at 'im... Whimerin' for 'is mummy still."

"Peace, Sneak."

It wasn't the ice woman standing there now, with her candle held behind her by someone unseen. There was one person there, one person not much taller than he, shorter even, given how he leaned so awkwardly on a stick held under the palm of his hand. But his eyes, they glowed like the Dark King's own; perfectly wide and round, with the red light of the flame flickering back and forth with eerie symmetry.

He couldn't help it, after all the times where the door had open to icy cold and water, now the Dark King's own had come to burn him. His chin quivered before he could stop it, and a deep sadness blossomed in his belly, right next to the hard cold lump of crust he'd gulped down hours and hours ago. Cold, like a stone, in the wet and cold and dark, all cold with no heat or light. No light now save those glowing eyes.

"Ah... N-no, it's okay. Don't cry!" Flaming eyes, even when the boy in front of him- was he lame of leg? He jostled up and down oddly as he came forwards. But even when he lowered his candle down, and came forwards, and the boy in the dark could see the lenses of glass over his eyes, not the flaming stones pressed into a Dark Minion's skull, he couldn't stop himself. A weak whimper, like that thrice-beat mutt he felt to be, it just slithered up his throat and he thought he'd be sick as his stomach flipped and flopped like a dying fish.

"He's _**crying!**_"

No, he was _wailing_. He couldn't stop himself, he could feel the feeble warmth of the candle in the lame boy's hand, but it was such a tiny fire, how could he feel it if he weren't so horribly cold? He hated the cold, and the dark, and the wet. Couldn't take it anymore. He hardly even heard the sound of he ice woman's voice, kept far down the corridor, and accompanied by another, warm, strong, not like her scratchy words.

"'course, Mum, I'll keep the lad in line.." He was saying, that other voice, beyond the door and down the corridor with the ice woman. But he didn't know how he could hear it, his own voice just wafted up and out of him. If he were to die in the cold and wet and dark, then he didn't even know where his soul would go. His voice just hit the stone walls and bounced right back at him, wouldn't his soul do the same?

"Why that infernal yowling! Again!" The ice woman's voice, it sent him into a howl he couldn't control. He barely heard the strong warm voice over the sound of his own wordless crying.

"Mum! I'll stop him, Mum!"

"Shove it!" Who was that?

"_Sneak!!_"

His screaming in the darkness was suddenly heightened to something of fear. Hands from a body he hadn't seen grabbed at him from the dark, and he shrieked in terror as those hands were hot like the Dark King's; hadn't his mum told him time and again that if he wasn't a good boy, the Dark King'd come for him? Maybe that was why his mum had taken him here, maybe he'd been stolen from her, 'cause he hadn't been a good boy, and had told her dad wouldn't wake up. So the Dark King and his Ice woman had captured him. And now, now he-

"Ow! Stop it!" He sobbed; terrified as his face was pressed down against the cold and wet stones, the tiny flame of the lame boy's candle wobbling back and forth as suddenly the small space of the cell was filled with shouts and hollers. He couldn't make heads or tails of any of it, feeling a knee against his back keeping him pegged down on the stone floor.

"_**ENOUGH!**_"

Light, it flooded, and for some reason everything suddenly stopped and calmed down, stillness even, his heart itself seeming quieted as the light from a full and glittering lantern cut through all the shadows. His breaths and those of the other two boys in the cell with him were the loudest sound, but he forgot about it all soon enough as his eyes adjusted to the light he hadn't seen in days.

A boy older than he- almost a man by the look of him- stood in the doorway, a hard look in his eyes and his lips pursed tightly in a rigid line. For a moment, he shrunk under the grip of whoever was holding him, thinking that near-anger to be directed at him, flinching as the old boy handed his lantern back, and he saw the ice woman shuffle into view. The boy with the glasses was seated on the corner of the cell, looking dazed as though he'd been pushed, his candle flickering uncertainly and began to die; tossed onto it's side on the floor and trying to still burn upright. He looked as though he'd been pushed, and the ice woman- was it really her?- knelt down to take a look at him.

But the older boy's glare-blessedly- was directed at him with his face on the ground. Although this older boy did walk towards him, and he felt himself go cold again as it happened, instead the knee on his back and the pressure at his neck eased and abated. He brought his hands up to cover his head though as the older boy reached out and grabbed something, and he was almost kicked in the ribs as the boy on top of him- where had he come from? Those hands in the dark?- was wrenched up like a sack of potatoes.

"Pummee down!" Sooty and small, that was what he thought of first, unable to see the face of the boy hoisted up by his collar; the older one just looked at him angrily.

"Don't you go jumpin' like those hay-haired louts outside." It wasn't a shout, or a snap, but for some reason the conviction and deftness of the order made it stick. Silently, he knew he'd tremble and simper and do anything asked of him if those hard eyes ever focused themselves on him...

"Sittin' on the floor whimerin' like a stupid mutt..." Though they didn't seem to have the same effect on the scrawny boy, his feet firmly back on the ground despite the hard still fisted in his shirt.

"You a'ight?" Looking away from the two other boys, he blinked to see the lame boy kneeling next to him, the ice woman seemed to be standing in the corner again with the lantern, not doing anything, save standing there, frozen... So cold...

"I-I-I-I..." He couldn't help himself, his throat was thick and his breaths kept coming in short gasps, half sobs as he tried to calm down a little... but he couldn't make the words come.

"C'mon, up an at 'em..." The lame boy with his cane and glass lenses, he ended up helping him to his feet- though it was sort of a mixed effort on both parts, seeing as he nearly fell himself when his cane slipped on the floor. It looked more like a table-leg though- why not get a real cane? Good and proper, stout and strong?

"Call me Pegleg." He looked at the lame boy oddly, his thin hair pasted to his scalp, but in this light he couldn't tell the colour. His eyes were reflecting the flames again, which made him shudder, but it wasn't them so much as it was really just the lenses of glass held over them by bits of wire. But, something about him seemed... not so scary... He led him past the two still standing with their argument, and his eyes moved on their own towards the taller one. He just seemed to have so much... presence...

"That's Boss." He couldn't help but breathe a heavy sigh as they stepped out of he cell and into the corridor beyond. To be honest, it wasn't so much better, the wet and the smell were gone, the cold a bit more so as well- but 'haps that was just 'cause of the lack of wet. There were flames on the brown stones, leaving their sooty black marks against the stones. And although it was tall and wide to him, he could see, looking to the Ice woman, how the top of her bunned up hair seemed dangerously close to grazing the ceiling... Where _was _he?

"I trust everything to be in order then, Accolon?" The ice woman, somehow her voice seemed less like the ice and shrieks he'd thought it, standing here in the corridor. Still frightening and strong, as though her bones were made of wood and her face the same, but without the door frame and the light behind her, and the echoes of the wet walls, not... not as scary... She wasn't looking at him, but instead addressing the two in the cell. The older one- Boss?- he turned with a good natured smile towards her.

"Aye, Mum, all settled now. Apologies for Sneak's behavior." Never mind, she was scary, completely and utterly frightening beyond words. Her face of carved wood just froze over with a layer of thinly chapped ice.

"I'm sure Mister _Sneak_ is sorry enough for his actions without you giving them voice."

"Don't you go presumin' nothin' on me, you old biddy!" That voice from the black cell, how sudden and surprising to hear it. For a moment, he'd almost forgotten the other boy was even there...

"Perhaps a few hours will impose some wisdom and restraint on our young friend." The ice woman- Thuma, why did the other boy keep calling her mum?- her voice was like a whip in the dark, and she made a sharp gesture with her hand. Boss nearly leapt out of the blackness of the cell, and it offered him a fading glimpse of the boy now all alone within the walls. His belly turned to ice, breath catching in his throat. He couldn't bare to watch what he knew was coming, but he couldn't look away either. Strangling himself, he stifled a hiccupping cry.

The boy in the cell though, he seemed almost to come apart in the shadows, like oil dispersing atop the surface of water. His eyes were a pale mint green, and shimmered something fierce in the lantern light.

"Whimpers like a baby!" The boy shouted vehemently over her words, staring right at him and making him shrink in on himself. "That should be his name! Whimpers! Whimpering an never standin' up straight t'all!"

The sound of the heavy metal door slamming shut over the shadow boy's cries was absolute. A key produced from the Ice woman's sleeve locked it surely, with a rattling of tumblers within the door and perhaps even into the walls themselves. There was no sound as she slipped the key back up her sleeve, nodded to the three boys, and shuffled off and away. Her thick dark skirts hid her feet completely, and it was the first time he noticed that she wore clothing his mum could only have ever dreamed of touching... Was she the Queen? He'd heard the queen had died years ago, but who else could afford such finery?

It was still the lame boy who spoke, his voice was almost exasperated, but the older one just shook his head fondly.

"And that was Sneak."

* * *

**Took a very long time to actually write this. School slows everything down. And why is it that every time I have to edit some minor detail in this story, it involves going back at least three chapters!? This is very irritating! It makes Sunny unhappy… **

**Does it resemble Zelda yet? I shouldn't think so. BUT DON'T LOSE FAITH IN ME! Review?**


	3. Smoke and Silk

**Ahh... Yes, Twilight Princess... I didn't think to add this too Chapter One since the review dealing more strongly with it came AFTER I posted -But thank you, Ultra. TP is one big hiccup which pushed back the release date of this story by several additional weeks. And at the end I STILL couldn't figure out how exactly to deal with it.**

**Well, onto more introduction and development. Since these aren't cannon characters, I actually need to spend time with them- worry not, Rexnos, there shall be plenty of action and excitement, but I need to be tactful to start off with, don't I? **

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* * *

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**Chapter Two**

Smoke and Silk

He stayed down there all night and for perhaps several hours into the next morning before emerging from the darkness. No one opened the door though; they never actually did for him. It was part of the reason that above all else, he loathed being in those damp black cells. Once that heavy metal door slammed shut over the light- it wasn't the dark that got to him, he liked scampering through the walls on his own anyways. Truth be told, that'd been how he'd discovered the crawlspaces and the loose bricks and everything else to begin with.

And he needed those spaces, why? Because they'd forget about him, that was why. The nerve of them, he'd put fresh garden worms in the old witch's shoes and scratched charcoal across her door when he'd figured that one out. That cell door stayed locked a full week after he'd crawled out of it- she'd seen him four times too! It hadn't been until she checked his palms and found the charcoal dust- wonder she'd found it since he sat by the fire all day anyways- that she'd even remembered he was supposed to still be locked up. And even then it wasn't till she had to fight with the bleeding door to get it open!

Either way, running one grimy black hand back through his tousled hair that might've been blond or brown- he couldn't remember or tell the difference, been too long since it'd last seen wash water- he dispelled any dust from the crawlspaces. Jogging down the echoing corridors, Sneak could feel the warmth in the air pick up, the kitchens drawing near as he knew that- however blessed those fires could be through the snowy winter and rainy autumn, it would be Din's Inferno from now till harvest...

Pushing in through the swinging doors of the kitchens, he was hit with both a wall of heat as well as the heady aroma of baking breads and spitted meats. The bread from before was as a cold memory in his gut by now, nothing there to fight the nag of hunger as he stepped into the flurry of shouting, chopping, banging, and stewing. It was a large chamber, seven ovens always burning away along one wall, long tables of old black wood strewn along in neat orderly rows. But there was hardly room for the tens of liveried bodies making their way around like too many fish in too tiny a pond. High ceiling and pale brown stone, the walls were blackened along with the hard chopping-littered floor for the most part. There'd been too many fires and near-catastrophic incidents over the years. Kitchens never slept, except perhaps for a few brief hours in the darkest times of the night. And even then, the fires had to be kept burning in case there was ever a call for tea or bread.

Weaving this way and that around the scampering men and women, older boys like Boss were always milling just outside waiting to be given trays of food or wine. They didn't have to deal with the fires or the vegetable shavings, or the meat fat being thrown about for whatever mongrel dog or rat scampered around under the tables. It was surprising they didn't see more of them in the castle during the day. There were enough hounds kept by the noble lots that they should've been neck-deep in the slobbering, blissful creatures. Never mind the rats.

"Like this, boy. No! _This_ way! Like **this!**" The crowd parted for a moment, and past scurrying legs with soiled fronts, Sneak could see the flames in one of the closer ovens abruptly flare up. There were a few muted cries as sparks billowed out past the iron grates. The grind of wood and the low squelch of animal fat meeting ghostly cinders left little to the imagination as Sneak pushed through to see a spitted bore head-first in the red hot embers of the oven. Petrified legs dripping with fat and bastings poking out of the fire stupidly.

"Idiot child!!" There was the sharp, stinging sound of a switch lashing back and forth through the air, high, pained cries whittling through the air as the other boy rolled up his sleeves to see who was responsible for what had happened. When he saw however, he gave a short, cruel laugh.

"Lashin' a babe like him ain't gonna do ya' no good." He chuckled to himself in a nasty little voice. No one else was watching, instead there was a huge flurry of activity echoing throughout the kitchen. Whose pig was that sticking out of the ashes anyways? Its front end was almost completely eaten away now by the flames.

Watching as the thin cook in brown shirt and trousers raised the switch one last time before letting it fall without striking, Sneak didn't intend on doing anything to help out. The man's pinched weevil face and curly black hair were all sweaty and slick, his cheeks a hot mauve as they always were whenever the minor-chef Cai dealt down a hiding. Crumpled at his feet in a little ball was the only somewhat cleaner form of the boy Boss'd dragged out of his cell before Sneak'd gone right in. He'd named 'im right then, whimpering like a baby all over again. Had it been anyone else, Sneak might've been inclined to feel a pang of sympathy for being on the receiving end of Cai's switch.

"King's Dinner, _that was the_ _King's Dinner you Stupid Chit!_" _Crack, crack, crack_, he was going to end up breaking that thing sooner rather than later. Look at it, the branch of willow was already flopping about without any supple strength to it. Now, he certainly wasn't going to be the one to mention getting a replacement; that was as good as volunteering for another beating of his own.

King's sup, eh? Well, that was interesting to know. All about him now, there were anxious calls for another cucco or heavy carp to be brought in. It must've been getting on late in the afternoon; nearing sup time if that'd been the old man's meal.

"I-I'm sorry!" Cracking his knuckles, Sneak wasn't going to bother helping the stupid new boy out at all. Instead, he was focused on that pig. Only one thing ever happened to spoiled meat like that. It went into his bowl, not the king's, but if he didn't get it out of those flames soon, there'd be nothing left but cinders and bone. Pulling his knife out of his sleeve, he moved right past the two of them blundering about- the boy on the floor and Cai with his switch. There might not be time now, but he'd get a scrap of it before anyone'd notice!

"I haven't got the bloody time t' go teachin' some stupid twit like you how t' mind the spits! _**You!**_"

"Bugger." Or not. Knife behind his back, Sneak'd wheel right around primp and proper, tucking the blade down into his belt as fast as he could.

"_ROSIE!!_" Cai's face was going a dark shade of blue now, he'd probably get sacked if he didn't get tonight's dinner just right. T'was strange though, he wasn't head-chef. Where was old McCullum? "Not another bird! 'e had one last night! King wanted a Pig; get a leg of mutton on the spit! Now!"

"Mutton's not pig!" Rolling his eyes, he shouldn't have gotten so worried over nothing. Rosie was a heavy woman, hidden somewhere across the kitchens with the confectioneries for the Princess's pallet. No doubt stuffing her face with them too. He went back to what he'd been doing. Hacking off one petrified leg, swearing softly under his breath as the carcus tipped over just before he'd finished, causing another gust of ash and sparks to come up at him.

" 'e can't tell the difference! Mutton you old hag! _Mutton!_"

The heat was scalding, causing his hands to redden angrily, but he was used to it. Hacking the leg off completely, it'd been a scrawny animal, and he didn't mind the ash dusting its glazed surface, taking a greedy slice off it with his knife.

"W-what are you doing!?" It was a shy, hoarse whisper, and this time Sneak jumped, turning his head around with a bit of the chewy meat between his teeth.

Whimpers was there. No longer in the blue vest and black trousers of his city cloths. A long white tunic stained brown from hem to neck was over him now, belted with a bit of rope little better than Sneak's own. His trousers were brown from all the dust and already greased up with the fat and water of the kitchen scraps littering the floor. He'd be a lot dirtier soon enough though, pale hair shiny like gold. At least he had the good luck to have a point to 'is ears, meant he wasn't a mongrel like stupid Cai.

The other boy was one his hands and knees as Sneak slurped up the stringy meat and swallowed it down like a bundle of knotted thread. Whimpers –he refused now to think of him by any other name- was just staring up at him, something strange in his eyes. His hair was so pale and light it made the firelight reflect off of it, straight into Sneak's eyes. It annoyed him.

Reaching one meat-slicked hand out, Whimpers made an affronted sound as the other boy ruffled his hand through those too-perfect lengths. He didn't like this city-spun wretch, using him as a rag to wipe off the grease.

"No no! What're you doin'!? Stop it!" He then used that as a means to get a firm hold of the other boy, and started dragging him along towards the door, calling out loudly, "Thuma'll tan yer' hide when she hears 'bout what a clumsy lummox she spent King's money on!"

Meat and knife in one hand, everyone's attention was more on Whimper's howling form as he started balling loudly. Sneak didn't hesitate, why should he? Darting through the crowd, yanking the wailing boy along behind him like one of the castle mutts. Someone even had the decency to shoulder open the door for them out of the sweltering heat and echoing shouts of the kitchen.

And then he kept dragging him, on and on and on, round one corner, then another, and third and a fourth. They stopped running into people, coming up to a dark corridor down a path from the Servant's wing proper. It was all storage rooms, Sneak knew where he was headed, Whimpers was having so much of a fit eventually he had to let go of the boy's hair and start shoving him along ahead of him, dragging him by the arm in places as he kept wailing and screaming and carryin' on.

"Oh, shut up!" He shouted, finally losing the last of his notoriously few patience. "Even if I were to take you to her, the old biddy never looks twice unless you upset her maids!_ Shut up!!_" Dropping the arm he'd been yanking on down the darkening passages, Whimpers finally seemed to lose his voice. That didn't keep him from laying motionless on the floor as though he hadn't a bone in his body though. The only sign he was still living was how his shoulders kept hitching up in silent sobs.

Leaning against the wall next to them, Sneak tossed the leg of pig down on the stone floor between the two of them, sliding down to sit and lick the remaining juices from his hands and knife. He knew they were far enough away from the well traveled and used parts of the castle that no one'd hear them or find them unless they were lost in their own right. These were the parts of the palace no monarch'd ever finished rebuilding. He remembered reading about them at some point in the Hovel. No one ever finished. If they went a hundred yards or more down this same way, they'd come across broken masonry and feeble beams holding up sections of stone and dirt. He'd often wondered what'd happen if he ever just knocked one of them down…

It took a while, a good long while before the silence was broken around them by anything more than Whimpers' harsh hiccups. It wasn't too dark down here, not for Sneak, but after a few more minutes than he would've liked, he realized it was probably too dark for the other boy's comfort. In fact, glancing over at him after he couldn't taste anymore meat flavor on his knife, he noticed that the boy showed up as little more than just a blob of black in the darkness of the hall. Right… that explained it then.

Torch… he needed a torch. He'd grown over the winter, something he was proud of but at the same time disliked. He didn't want to get too big for the crawlspaces while he still has uses for them. Once he found one of the old stubs on the wall, he had to jump to knock it free from the iron loop it'd sat in for years. Whimpers twitched at the sound of the aged wood striking the cold stones, and Sneak paused for a moment, was the other boy muttering under his breath? If he was, it was just the same thing over and over again… loon…

Once the torch was in his hands, it took him a moment to rifle about his person for the fire sticks. He had precious few now adays, he'd snatched them from a peddler who'd come to the castle some moons back. He'd tried to pinch the recipe too, but been caught at that by the bent old man and tossed into the cells by the hag. She didn't like him much…

The sudden light was harsh to his eyes, but he'd touched the torch head first before lighting it, feeling the old grease on the head not wet, but still there. It'd burn longer but lower this way, touching the hissing stick to it, the flames spread slowly with hungry fingers, and he pinched the smaller light between his thumb and the pad of his middle finger.

With the light, he saw exactly what he'd expected to see, the stone walls, floor, and ceiling of the castle's lower levels, there was nothing exceptional about them. Nothing interesting save for an old door every now and again leading into rooms mostly left unused over the years. He didn't know what there was to be afraid of, but it wasn't until the light had settled to a methodical wavering and wafting that the other boy finally lifted his head up.

"No one… no one saw you take it…" His voice was quiet, almost unable to break over the soft breath of the fire. Out of boredom, Sneak started bouncing the torch-head back and forth, creating a glowing trail across his vision and the shadows.

"They never do." He answered simply, just bobbing it up and down, up and down. He tried writing a word or two with the fire, but if he swung it to fast the flames threatened to die on him. He wasn't going to waste another stick.

"Y-you hacked the meat right off… no one saw…"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"I'm Sneak. They're not supposed to." He was only watching the fire now, holding it far enough away from him so he couldn't feel the heat of the torch. He ended up sitting in front of ovens too much to go about holding flames up to his nose.

"Y-you're not taking me to the Ice Woman? You said you would…" Lolling his head to the side, Sneak couldn't help but regard the new boy with a dull look.

"Ice woman? That what you call Thuma?" He asked bitterly, watching as the other boy's eyes followed the flames like a beacon. In fact, he even tested that theory, making the kid's head bob back and forth following the fire, nodding as well to answer the question. "No, I'm not. Why should I? She wouldn't believe me, and you already got a switching anyways."

Quiet… not the same silence as before, but they were both very quiet for a moment or two. Sneak wasn't sure if it was one of their stomachs that he heard first, or just the other boy.

"W… where'd you put the meat?" Ah, so that's what the look had been, it was sinking back into the boys eyes. Vaguely, as he stretched out to retrieve the hacked-off limb from the dusty floor, Sneak wondered at when the boy'd last had a taste of something other than hard bread.

The meat wasn't piping hot anymore, almost cold to the touch as he set the torch on the ground and drew his knife out again. Hacking down along the bone, there was still some heat left in it near the centre. He didn't cut it in half per-say, hacking off a chunk the length of his hand and a bit thicker, and tossing it towards Whimpers. He kept the bone for himself, thinking only briefly of Boss and Pegleg before beginning to suck on the bone for the juices which were still plentiful in the meat. He'd go to bed full tonight.

The other boy didn't question the charity; obviously he'd been instrumental in their even having the meat to begin with. He'd been the one to drop the spit, take the beating, and then provide a shrieking distraction. Sneak could scarcely have done better if he'd planned it all out himself. Bit of bread would have gone nicely with the meal, but of the two he'd have to be more content with the blood. They ate in relative silence, the flame wavering between the two of them on the floor, a bit of smoke wafting into the shadows, but otherwise not diminishing the taste.

"Why d'you call me Whimpers?" Sneak was sucking on the marrow by the time the question wafted across the circle of light to him. As he'd done with the knife blade earlier, he was sucking and gnawing at the bone until he could be sure not a smattering of flavor or fat remained.

"…We open the door, you're crying." He said simply, trying to get his tongue into one of the little notches his knife'd made. "I enter the kitchen, you're weeping…" The marrow always had a taste to it which made him want to wretch; he wasn't even all that fond of red meat to begin with. "I drag you all the way down here, light you a fire, and give you food, and all you've been doing is wailing and sobbing the whole time." He'd have greatly preferred a bit of Cucco than the pig's leg, but he wasn't likely to find anything better today, so didn't waste his breath with complaint. "All you do is Whimpers. I don' care what your old mum called you, she ain't here. You're Whimpers."

The bone was done; he couldn't get anything more out of it. Sighing, he wasn't hungry anymore, and the meat had warmed him up a good bit, but he wasn't exactly full either. Blood was better than bread, but sometimes it just didn't sit as well with him. Whimpers was still chewing sullenly on his own meat, rationing it as it were. He didn't seem to like it much either. The smarmy, ungrateful little-

"I guess that's fair…" –eh, what?

"…What're you on about now?" Silence again, shorter even than before, and they just sat there staring at one another.

"I said it's fair. Whimpers…" He seemed a bit downcast, tasting the name for the first time it seemed, frowning, and looking saddened in a way which made Sneak want to clap his hands over his ears incase the brat was about to start bawling again. Blessedly, he didn't.

"You said… castle money… Was I… did my mum…?" The question seemed hard in coming, and slowly, unwillingly, Sneak tried forcing down his irritation with the other boy.

"…Finish th' meat. I'll explain how t'all works…"

* * *

His eyes were bad. They had always been bad; the world fuzzing up around him from the time his memories started forming. In all technicality; he didn't even recall what his own mum's face had looked like. Her voice, the smell of the roses and posies she'd collected around her to sell, he remembered those things, but not her face.

When he'd come into the castle, then the world had cleared up for him. They'd given him the wire-bound glass of his specs to wear. Then, because of his twisted foot and smooth hand, they'd set him down with wax tablets and inkless pens to learn his letters. It was hard work, difficult for other boys, the ones who wanted to run around and jump on things, climb trees and not mind the beatings dolled out to them. But he couldn't be like that. He liked his letters, and his numbers, and was always proud for his praise. No one ever need know the scribe who noted the year's comings and goings had been lame of leg, they need only admire his neat, well formed writings.

He was proud of his station too, he didn't sleep by the kitchen fires like Sneak and Whimpers sometimes had to, or in a crowded room full of rowdy kitchen and cleaning boys. He had a tiny cot, the rushes could use a change but were otherwise alright, with his little quilt which wasn't good enough in winter, but which he'd be glad for in the upcoming summer heat. He slept in the same chambers as the Princess's personal scribe. He'd even taken notes and messages for the Princess herself. Once or twice even, though it wasn't quite allowed, he'd been the one to teach her a letter or two, instead of his master. That was always quiet a joy in itself, the prospect of being important.

He knew a lot of it was just fancy though… The Princess, more often than not she'd end up throwing her ink well at him, or shrieking for the lame mongrel he was to get away from her. His master was swift to cane him if he took a letter down wrong- kindly as the old man was, it was only proper to do so. He wasn't permitted to be seen by the King at all. Clearly the gods had marked him as something vial, that the Dark King would use him in some way to crumble their fair land.

But, still, he could dream a bit, couldn't he? He'd even grown his hair out enough so his ears were all hidden, no one need see the roundedness of his lesser blood. That was what it was after all. He knew it, Boss knew it, Mistress Thuma and Master Scribe Peon knew it too. Only Roundies who'd defied the word of an ancient Queen stayed in the city, and they got what was coming to them. He'd always resented how his mum hadn't listened to common law, had come back to the city with her flowers. His memories told him she'd been kind and good enough, not one to shun her maimed son, but she hadn't known her place. Good and proper, outside the walls.

A lot of Hyrule's problems were their fault of course, people like him with their inability to hear the gods. After all, they were the ones out working the field, and since they couldn't hear common sense from above, they always let the crops fail. They'd done so last year, so famine had gripped all the way up to the castle all winter long. If it hadn't been for Sneak, maybe Pegleg wouldn't have had a bite to eat at all.

He didn't like being singled out for his twisted leg, it hurt more than he should have liked to have people shriek and scream at him for it. But it was better than his ears, so much better. He could try to earn pity for his infirmities, but once people learned of his ears, well, obviously it was his own Roundy fault. He deserved it, bringing ruin to the country and all… he just wish he knew how to make people like him stop doing things like that.

That was… perhaps the only reason why he'd ever want to leave the castle. The only one. Here, he had a bed, a profession, a job and on most occasions steady food. Why else would he want to leave if only to set the Roundies outside the wall straight on their place in life? It was all their fault, and so it was his too for being like them. He needed to get out there like Boss said, and as the learned man- well, boy- he was, teach them right from wrong and make them stop hurting those who'd done no harm.

"You're writing has improved wonderfully, your Highness."

"I know it has, you stupid old man." But first, her Majesty's lessons. Leaving the castle could be dealt with once the small silk-swathed princess was through learning for the afternoon.

Master Scribe Peon was a thin, frail, bent old man. A large mustache under his nose fluffed out like a clump of goose down, his balding head shining as he still had a ring of straight, bowl-cut white hair hanging around his ears. Round ears, mind you. Hidden perfectly from sight, it was the same style of hair Pegleg now used for himself, though his own hair was a light yellow, not flaxen and white. If Pegleg had been hurt by the famine, Master Peon had been near death for most of it. He wasn't expected to live very long into the summer…

"Where's your little lame boy?" He couldn't see the Princess from where he stood, hidden by a silk curtain of deep red, leaning on his table-leg-cane with his box of supplies hooked under one arm. From where he stood, Pegleg could hardly see the back of his master's long woolen robes; dirt splattered across the lower hem. There was a pause.

"But… I thought your Majesty did not like to see-"

"I did not ask you what you thought; I asked where your lame Roundy friend is." He caught his breath, pursing his lips slightly at the sharpness of the Princess's words. He knew no good could come of her asking for him. But by golly he could still dream couldn't he? Hope and dream and pray, even as he didn't know a single name too pray to. Not all like him were terrible and bad. He could make them change, he knew he could. He could show the others with their lower, dirtied blood the error of their ways.

"He is… He is behind the curtain, Highness. Shall I summon-"

"Move, old man. I don't want to look at your ugly face anymore. Go away behind the curtain so I shan't have to see you." He watched with baited breath as the dark form of the Master Scribe bent forwards a ways, it was as low a bow as he could managed. He had to close his eyes though; he heard the sound of the Princess lifting something and knew to soon what was to happe—

_Wham! _

"You don't nod your head to me like a nanny you ugly old fool!" The Princess's voice was an angry shriek which filled the silk-swathed chamber. "You bow! What gall have you to call yourself a Master Scribe!? Master; you? Round-eared filth is all you are! You who would destroy Hyrule from the ground up!" A perfect circle it was, with a vaulted ceiling up twenty feet or more, draped with silks of roses and lace. Decorations overflowing every wall and shelf. All of it was dusty though, fading every scrap of cloth. It was a lovely chamber, though a scarce ten paces across, the Princess's miniature throne of silk, ivory and pillows squarely in the centre. "You filthy maggots! Bow to me when you are in my presence! _Bow!_" He'd rather take in the splendor of the rooms than watch the old man try feebly to pick himself up off the ground.

"Get out of my room! Get out! Get out! Get out! Don't ever look at me again! If I ever see you- either of you! I'll have you hanging from the gallows at noon!_ Get out!!_"

Pegleg only just remembered to toss up the hood of the dark robes he always wore when going about duties as a scribe, or being anywhere within the palace in the presence of the nobility. He tossed it up over his clipped hair, allowing the cowl of the hood to hide his specs from sight as he hobbled quickly out from behind the curtain. There was an explosion of glass behind him which made him jump up in fright as he fumbled towards the older man to help him up so they could leave.

"I did not tell you to step out!" She shrieked at him, and he dare not look at her to see anything more than the white flowers embroidered onto the hem of her pale gown. Did not dare look up at her as he fumbled with cane, box, and robes trying to help up his master and begin dragging him back, wishing he had the strength to just lift him up and carry him away.

"You filthy wretches! Get away from me! You'll taint me! Guards! _Guards!_"

"Your Majesty!" The doors flung open behind them as both scribes were now on their feet, though Pegleg himself knew not how. It was a familiar voice which rose to calm to fearful shrieks of the Princess however. There were hands which were too gentle to be a guard's which steadied Pegleg and whirled him around, nudging him towards the door and hallway beyond. He hardly saw the roan tunic long enough to know it was Boss who helped them escape. And although he should've known, he needed to look back and check, leaning heavily on his stick with Master Peon leaning on him in turn, his glasses were skewed just enough that nothing was truly clear.

He knew it was Boss, and although he told himself that was who he was looking for, all he saw instead was the distraught figure behind him. Half focused, half not; her hair was done up and hidden as most noble women's were, with a fall of cloth hiding the back of her head and neck from view, the looped cinnamon of her hair difficult to see in detail. And he was too far to see her eyes, to know their colour, though he'd been told they were a deep brown not unlike that of burnished copper. Her face might've been prettier than the glance he saw of it now, pulled in fear and contorted by rage, it wasn't some untold purity, but there was most certainly… something… about her.

All he saw was Boss rushing up to her as the doors seemed to close of their own accord. Boss would calm her, he could do anything… The Princess had been born the season just after Boss, and he was a solid fifteen winters now, he could calm her. He was well spoken, and good looking, and above all he had pure blood of their nation, not marred physically by their dirty blood. He could calm her.

"G-Gwydion… Gwydion…" It took him a moment, a long, drawn out moment, to take in that he was being called. Looking at first down and then up into the weary eyes of his mentor, it was almost rare for him now to ever hear his given name used by anyone. Thuma sometimes did, but when she said your real name, it always sounded like some sort of threat… When his mentor used it, it was so much different, it felt proper. So… how could this frail, fatherly man be dying? It was only believable now; feeling how he was leaning and how ragged his breaths were coming. He needed to be put to bed… But, would he be able to rise again afterwards?

"It seems… my Gwydion…" He huffed quietly, the pair of them shuffling along quietly down the halls, keeping to the far side, and searching silently for the first entrance to the side halls which would carry them to the servant's wing. "It seems the Princess Elda… was in a… a good mood today… don't you think?" He swallowed hard as they moved away from the threadbare carpets of red wine into the lesser corridors of bare stone and dirty corners. But he smiled as well, and Pegleg couldn't feel all so bad.

"Yes, I think she was."

* * *

**Yeah, their accents sort of fade in and out, I've noticed that, but it's more or less because of their own speech patterns. The character's mood, their current situation, who their talking to and about what all have an impact. Same thing with the narrative, how it goes into accents and then drops off into the full words. It's not exactly intentional, but it's very difficult to edit out. I'd need an actual beta for that. **

**Pegleg's coming off way more dependant on… everyone… than I originally wanted… Meh.**


	4. Dithering and Dickering

**Before you guys jump on me for this- think about the setting! It's squeamish now, but from Ancient times well through the European Enlightenment it was perfectly normal! Don't hate me! **

**And before anyone points it out, the romance in this story even makes ME gag xD I hate laying it on so thickly, but bear with it, please? Besides, it's no fun to have**_** 'flat'**_** characters. Multiple dimensions are fun!**

**Posting this Wednesday night, don't expect my normal Saturday/Sunday update, you greedy, greedy people.**

* * *

**Chapter Three **

Dithering and Dickering 

This chamber, it always had the most delicious scent… Fresh rose hips, the sweet aroma of honey cakes, the expensive perfumes she liked to sprinkle into her hair…

"I'm a Princess you know…" And he did, of course he did.

"I wish that you would run away with me…" His words were nearly a sigh, closing his eyes as he abandoned the task of forcing on his boots, taking in a deep breath of the perfumed air in her chambers.

"And do what? Farm dirt with the impure ones?" The way she pouted her lips made him want to kiss them again, even though he shouldn't. There were lots of things he shouldn't do though, lots of things he knew were wrong, but couldn't keep himself from doing. The dreamy scent of cinnamon and spice filled his head as he let his lips graze over hers.

"I wish you wouldn't call them that..."

"You have a lot of wishes, Accolon." She had eyes of sweet honey amber, a lustrous brown with a golden light to it, so much like the sweeping lengths of her hair. He leaned over her on the bed so he could take in her features more carefully, her hair was so beautiful when unbound and let to fall without the short cover of her veil. Gently, he stroked her soft cheek, and again he gave a sigh.

"Is it wrong that one of them is that you weren't a princess?" She scrunched up her face for a moment at the idea, but then he smiled as she broke into a short, good-humoured laugh.

"Why not wish yourself a Prince instead?" He stood back up as she moved about, holding the covers up over the silky shift in front of her. Her gown was hung over the back of a chair in front of her vanity mirror, next to the red tunic he picked up and tossed back over his head. He was looking for his belt when he replied to her again.

"No doubt a Prince could do much more for the world than a poor man. But perhaps someday the Gods will give me the means to be a prince for you."

"What gods, Accolon? You know those're just old wives tales…"

"You always say my name so much, you know that?" He fingered the lacy detailing on her gown as he spoke with a soft laugh, looking to her with a silent question as she waved away the prospect of dressing again. "I like the sound of it…"

"Well, I'm not going to call you by a silly child's name, now am I? Those slave boys can call you whatever they like, **you **are a free man." He sat down on the bed again, leaning in to touch his lips to hers in yet another chaste kiss.

"Free man, but still poor. Those boys an' I'll make something of ourselves, and then I'll come back for you, hmm?" She laughed with him quietly, but neither was at ease with this plan completely. Who was too say he would not turn around by the end of the season to see her betrothed to a man more worthy of her class?

"But… I'm a princess you know…" She repeated quietly, picking gently at a few stray threads on his roan tunic. Her father's lion was stitched rudely with yellow thread onto the sleeve as she lay her head down on his shoulder. "A knight of my father's is noble enough… wouldn't you say? He's been meaning to give me a birthday present…" For a moment, he was silent, stunned.

"I'm not a squire to be-"

"So? I could make you my Champion; and then-"

"But I haven't earned-"

"Don't interrupt me, Sir Knight." She cut in sharply, but there was a smile on her face as she curled her arms around his neck tenderly, so close to him that the scent of cinnamon was nearly overwhelming. "I'll have my father make you a knight," She whispered, "A knight with a sword and a horse to go riding across the countryside. Saving people and doing great things, like the old children's tales…" He was captivated now, listening to her soft, sweet voice as she spoke,

"The boys…"

"As my Champion, it would only be proper for you to have several slaves to serve you. You want them to run away, Accolon, but you know as well as I that unless you live off of dirt your whole life with them they'll never find anything better than what they have here… But my champion… the Queen's Champion… why, he could throw away his slaves whenever he wished… With a bit of money… with a bit of status, perhaps?" Oh… she made the world sound as thought it were full of dreams… So simple; so easy… Was it so?

Could he do that? He, Pegleg and Sneak had spoken of leaving the castle behind for years now… he knew Pegleg had been sold to the palace, and Sneak was a mystery, but he, Accolon, their Boss, had been born in the palace, and could trace his family back hundreds of years as servants and confidants within the palace. He was a free man, with the slender ears to protect him outside of the castle. They'd been scrounging up every rupee to be had for months and months now, although Boss did have his doubts as to how truthful Sneak was when it came to his share. He swore up and down Pegleg shouldn't have to cost more than three greens to get him out of the castle, but Sneak wasn't always the most trustworthy of boys… Now there was the new boy to consider as well, him an' his fresh debt…

If he bought them from the castle- Boss didn't have to run away, he was free, he could up and leave whenever he so felt- he really hadn't thought as to what they could do outside. For all he knew, they really wouldn't end up with lives any better than those before them now. Meals could be withheld in the castle, but there was still food to be had unless the crops completely failed in the country. This winter had shown the effective bonuses of living within castle walls during a crisis... Boss had not approved so much himself of the tactics, but the food had always been shipped up to them first before being dispersed amongst the populace. Would they have the same guarantee if they were beyond the walls with nothing more than whatever remained of their funds for freedom?

"_Sir _Accolon..." She purred, smiling in a coy manner, somehow it was still infectious, and he rested his forehead against hers.

"Do you mean it, my sweet?" He asked softly, the spice of her always brought about something in him he otherwise never felt... He loved that so much about her...

"_My_ Champion... By mid-summer's eve... _my_ _Accolon_..." Cinnamon and rose hips, hair of candied butter, laced up with the grace and the grandeur of their Golden Land… How could he do anything but believe her?

_BAM-BAM!_ Sweet Fire! Free man or no, he'd be dead if he was caught here now!

"Go! Go! Quickly!" In a frantic whisper, the two of them were suddenly climbing over one another, the echo of the loud knocking bouncing back and forth across the small chamber, repeating itself shortly after for emphasis.

" Elda?"

"Under the bed!" His boot? Where in blazes was his other boot!? Oh, he had always known this sort of thing was no good for them, she deserved better, but by the gods he didn't want to be skinned and hung for this! He literally dove off the bedding on the far side, away from the two bleached white doors of her chambers. His front teeth nearly met soundly with the thread-bare rugs strewn across her floor, but he pulled his legs down and rolled right under the dusty covers. Silent, he pressed his face flat against the pilled and musky carpets. The dust made his eyes water, and the scent of her perfumes did not reach down so far, but by the gods he would be as unmoving as stone now.

"... Elda?" Still as death, and silent not too mention. Hardly could he see through the lacy spill of her bed sheets towards the door, and had the peeling doors not swung open already, he would've shrunk back from the meager light they allowed down to him. Surely whoever it was would be able to see him?

Oh, who was he to bother praying to some unnamed being? No simple servant would dare intrude so boldly on his Princess's time- and the only one who could, wouldn't spare him a moment to explain. He could sense her adjusting herself on the crushed straw of her mattress, keeping herself decent with the flowering quilts of her status.

" Elda?" The buckles of His Majesty's shoes were of copper, or brass, or some other metal, but they were tarnished from lack of care. Perhaps later he could offer to shine them for a bit of good favour. Yes yes, good favour would put him in right so long as he wasn't caught here and now...

"Hnn?... H...hello, Father..." There was a feigned notion of sleep in the voice above him, and he listened to her breathe deeply in a show of exhaustion... He could only pray her act would fool him...

"Ah, I'm sorry my poor Sweetling, were you dreaming?" What a soft tone, filled with the kindness of a lonely and doting father. Frankly though, past the roar of his own beating heart, Boss could hardly think past how different that same voice could be when addressing a servant in the wrong. Many heads were swift to roll in light of the King's displeasure... Please, oh please, whatever fabled deity hovered above them; let his own head not be counted amongst them today!

"Yes… yes I think so…" She yawned, shifting above him as he could imagine her stretching and sitting up in her bed, turning towards the King with her quilts still up around her. "There was a knight I think… a good, white knight who-"

"I was informed of your fright this afternoon, my child. Are you recovered now after your nap?" Doting under circumstance; love not unconditional.

"Y-yes, Father. I-"

"Very good then, very good." He would hear no more from her it seemed. In his heart, faintly, he felt a pang of sympathy for his Princess. Given silks and jewels and pretty things with hardly ever a true word between herself and her noble father… He would have to encourage her to take heart that he had come to visit her at least.

"…Father?" He must have had an odd look on his face for her to speak up to him, and Boss could hear the silent yearning in her voice for him to give his attention to her.

"Will you be presentable this evening?"

"Y-Yes, Father."

"The pink gown, with the roses, would you wear that one for me, Sweetling?"

"Yes, Father."

"Would you like a new gown for your birthing day? I have been meaning to find something for you…"

"Ah…" He held his breath, hearing how she nearly answered him in the affirmative out of habit. There was a tense pause however, and he could almost see the hardening gaze of the King on the Princess…

" Elda?"

"Father, you have often said that you wish there were more men of honour in our kingdom, yes?" Silence, was he nodding? Was he growing angry? From down below the frame of the bed, it was impossible to know without moving and giving himself away. "Well, Father… I think I may have found one."

"Have you now?" He nearly jumped at the sudden noise of the bedding above him, how old was the wood over his head, holding her mattress and bedding up? It strained and creaked even under her slight form, her small white feet slipping down past his tiny window of sight, her shift falling to her ankles before the pale, pearly silk of a dressing robe was tied around her waist, she quickly padded up to him, and he watched as she stood on tiptoe at the King's side.

"Y-yes father. He is of- he is of good, sound blood. Loyal to you and- and he-"

"That is very good, Sweetling. Will you be ready for tonight's dinner?"

"Wha- Oh, yes, yes, Father, I shall…"

"Excellent, I will let you get back to your rest now." There was no more talking after that, hardly a pause before the King's buckled shoes turned and he stepped back towards the doors, parting them widely to leave, and allowing them to swing shut with a low bang.

Silent, tense, the room was so devoid of sound that the boy hardly dared breathe. That had been far to close…

"…Accolon?"

At her voice, he regained himself, beginning to kick slightly, worming himself backwards and narrowly avoiding cracking the back of his head against the frame of her bed. Pulling himself up onto his knees, he knew he must have looked bedraggled, covered in dust and thread as he looked over the bed at her. She was distraught, and he knew it. Rising and quickly making his way around the bed, he crossed over to her, taking the Princess into his arms gently.

"You will be a knight…" She whispered softly, her head against his shoulder as he stroked her back gently. She would only lean on him for a moment however, before pulling back and looking up at him with a hardened expression.

"You will be my champion." She said sternly, not having descended into tears, and not about to either. There was strength to her, and as she wrapped her arms up around his neck, he smiled down at her, nodding, before dropping down onto one knee in front of her. He took one of her hands in both of his, kissing the backs of her fingers, and imagining her crowned in the regalia of their Kingdom before the entire court.

"Yes, My Princess…"

* * *

"Poppycock."

"Sneak, don't be that way."

"Oh shush-up, Pegleg, he's gone real mental now!"

"_Sneak!_"

It seemed that the younger boys in the castle were normally all crammed into several small rooms for the night. Low ceilings and a small fire of coals for warmth, eight tiny cots stacked one over the other, one pair against each wall. But apparently that didn't make these chambers the single sleeping area for them, during winter Sneak was as likely to sleep next to the kitchen fires as Boss would curl up on some nobleman's floor. Pegleg even had a cot all to himself sitting at the end of a Master Scribe's bed elsewhere in the underground wing.

It was all such a strange set up it seemed, a world void of rules yet filled with punishments. Aside from the meat pilfered by Sneak earlier, he, the new boy, had hardly had a morsel since the bread from the cold black cell. After the heat of the kitchens- he and Sneak had gone back to them after eating- the room was eerily quiet, and pressed down on him with a heavy sense of exhaustion. He wondered when the sun would set, or if it already had. Although he didn't know what the Sneak had gone off to do once they'd gone back to work, he himself had been sent carrying shriveled winter sprouts around atop his head trying not to get stepped on. He would not have been against sleep, the crushed and brown rushes under the thin cloth of his mattress was inviting after so many hours spent running himself sick. The blankets stank of moths and dust, and there was a rolled up piece of cracked leather to serve as a pillow, but he was so tired that-

"Why would anyone make _him_ a knight?" –that he just had to pay attention to this. He had a feeling after the charity earlier that he had somehow been_ 'accepted' _amongst the other boys here, though they seemed an unlikely group. Boss was so much older, and Pegleg was not only cripple but with round ears too. It seemed so strange to him, but somehow he wasn't afraid around them.

"His father was a knight." Pegleg brought up weakly, and suddenly Whimper's attention came up, he rubbed at his nose for a moment, listening closely.

"You don't need to be a knight to have a sword!" Sneak's voice was like a whip, cutting through the calm air of the chamber with sharp venom.

"Sneak, that's enough." It wasn't Pegleg trying to keep the peace this time, but instead Whimpers stared at Boss for a moment, the older boy for once lacking a grin or a smile, or that contented look on his face. He seemed serious in a way which was almost foreign. "You don't know enough about-"

"_I know plenty!_" From the platform over Whimper's head, Sneak's voice bellowed down towards where Boss was seated across from them, on the same level as Whimpers. Dropping down from above, he couldn't see the wiry boy's expression, but the points of his ears were a blistered red colour, pointing out through his grimy hair as though tipped with blood, like demon horns.

Boss always seemed to butt heads with the strange, small little boy in front of him, even after only knowing them a day or so, he had already found this to be true. Pegleg was pouting slightly next to Whimpers, although the new boy had shuffled away from him somewhat when the cripple had sat himself on his bed. The scribe seemed to be the one who'd try settling arguments, although he more or less just nagged everyone… He was so strange…

"My father was-" There was irritation in Boss's voice, but he didn't get a chance to go very far with his thought. Sneak exploded.

"'_My father! My father!'_ That's all you ever say! _'My father would do this'_ _'my father would say that'! _Your father wanted a roll in the hay with some castle wench- and he got one!"

He must have missed something, something very important, because before his mind could so much as wrap around what was happening, all four of them were on their feet. Whimpers didn't even think of the crippled boy as they were both gripping Boss's arms. He couldn't hear anything except mindless shouting, surprised even to hear his own voice up there with Boss and Sneak. The oldest boy had his hands fisted in the front of Sneak's shirt, and the difference a few years could make was astounding as Whimpers felt his feet only scuffing the floor trying to hold on.

"Take it back! Take it back right now!"

"_Make me!_"

"_**I will!!**_"

"Boss! Stop it! Stop it, please don't!"

"**What** is the meaning of this!?" Just as fast as the world had ascended into shouting and panic, all of the momentum was stolen, like a huge rock wedge under the handle of a smith's billow. The world just froze, or maybe it was his heart instead, his hands went numb, mouth dry, he was hardly aware of losing his grip on Boss's arm until he was suddenly on his backside on the floor by the coals.

The Ice Woman stood there, the low red light of the brazier casting cruel shadows across her thin, wrinkling face. He felt so cold despite the heat being right next to him. Why was she here now? Why? He wanted her to leave, wanted her to go away. It was as if her dark form standing there made all the walls converge, leaping forwards, he could almost see the glisten of water and algae. He didn't want to go back into the cells down below, he just didn't…

"Accolon, the King has summoned you." Whatever she had meant to say, or what he had thought she would say to him, was forgotten. Did she know about the meat Sneak had stolen? The food he'd helped devour in the dark hall, while Sneak held his little flame out to keep the shadows at bay? He was sure she could see right through him, through any lies he might tell trying to hide it. Did he have anything on his face still?

"The King?" No… no, she didn't look through him, she just didn't notice him. Her eyes were for Boss and him alone. He hadn't even known who she was speaking to until he responded. Was that his real name then?

"Yes, you are to serve at his table tonight."

"Serve!? But they should've broken bread already!" He felt like an outsider suddenly, though he wasn't sure if the Cripple felt the same, though they were excluded from this exchange, ignored and forgotten. He was fine with that himself though, he didn't want to be seen by her, he didn't want to be dragged back into the dark by her…

"Then hurry and go!" She said frankly, stepping to the side so as not to block the door any longer. Boss moved slowly at first, walking as though in trance, before he gave a small hop and darted past her, one hand running back through his tousled hair. Not another word was left for them, leaving the boys all alone with her, Thuma, Ice Woman…

"Now, the next time I come down here I expect you not to be fighting one another like animals!" She said chillingly, causing him to quiver as her gaze landed squarely on him, Pegleg's head bent down to her in a way he couldn't imitate; he was down on the floor propped up on his hands. He tried it though, touching his chin all the way down to the grimy collar of his shirt.

With a sharp sniff, she turned away from them, like a wraith draped in several layers of dark skirt and lace. The roughly hewn door to their chambers shrieked on its old hinges, half off of them anyways as she shut the opening behind her.

"Boss never gets to serve so high…" Pegleg's voice came as a start to him, his mind slow to pick up again, muddled by exhaustion on several levels, the cold and draining effects of the Ice Woman's presence, and the itching pain of-!

"_AAH! OW!!_" Fire! He hadn't noticed at all while she'd been there lording over him! Jumping up in fright, by some divine favor he wasn't aflame, but his arm all the way from elbow to wrist was an angry red colour, having been too close to the hot metal and coals for comfort. Maybe not a burn in truth, but it itched and stung now, and he could guess it would still do the same tomorrow. Blast it!

"Here, lemme take a look at it." If he jumped to feel the sudden heat of the brazier, he felt his skin crawl as Pegleg hobbled over to him, one pale thin hand reaching out to him to take a look at his arm. He had to comply for some reason, though he didn't understand it.

"S'not bad…" He mumbled; looking around the small room as Pegleg's clammy fingers touched the hot skin. He didn't like being touched; this strange cripple was too weird for his tastes. It probably had something to do with his ears, so strange they were; nevermind the fact that he was infirm in the body to begin with.

Odd though, was something… missing?

"No, it's not." The scribe relented, letting go of the other boy's arm, Whimpers didn't know what the odd fellow would've done if it had been a real burn- but he prolly' didn't want to know either. He didn't like being left alone with the cripple…

"Could… could he really be made a knight?" Moving back to sit on one of the beds, the crushed rushes and leather pillow seemed so inviting to him as he sat himself down. Wrapping and unwrapping his arm in the extra space of his shirt- it was much too big for him after all- it felt good to rub the loose cloth over the enflamed skin.

"Dunno, maybe." Shrugging awkwardly, Whimpers noted how weird every movement the cripple made seemed strange. His twisted leg made him lopsided from head to hip and beyond. Such a queer little misfit… "I can ask my master on the morrow maybe…"

" 'e might know…" The conversation… died… He could feel his eyes growing heavy, his mind slowing back down again as he felt his thoughts and body turning towards sleep. Sleep would… be very good… But…

Where'd Sneak gone?

* * *

Show 'im, show 'im indeed.

He'd never hated this set up more, not ever, not once. Escaping had always been a means to spite the rest of them around him, not the same frustrating ordeal it was now. Every time he felt his cloths snag on a piece of course wood, or smacked his head on a low stone that had sunk down with improper setting, he cursed louder than he should have, the sores left behind hurt him more than they should have.

He couldn't stand it, this sickening rat race of finding meals and escaping switches. He couldn't take it much longer than this. He was sick of waiting, sick of foolish dreams and half-conjured plans. He was going to do this himself, and he didn't care if they agreed with him or not.

Three times he got lost on the way to the Hovel. Three times, and each wrong turn sent him into a fit of rage he had to bottle down lest he get caught. If he was found out now after all these years, he'd lose it, once and for all just lose it. No one would be able to stop him, or care if he went loose or not. They'd deal with what he did and then dismiss it all over again.

When he finally found the Hovel, he didn't spare a glance for the old books, the bits of string and marbles. He didn't look over the bits of coloured glass or laugh at the childish drawings of charcoal and odd little pictures dug into stone and wood. He was there for one thing; and that one thing alone.

He was so rough with the wall and its loose bricks that he grated his finger all the way down it, causing a crippling pain all along his hand which he'd shrieked at. Sucking at the slight trickle of blood, the pain was too much for such a small injury. He could feel his frustration mounting, biting down as hard as he dare over the end of his finger.

His eyes were burning, but that must've been from the dust he'd been kicking up this whole time. He was more wary with his other hand as he fingered at the cracks and grooves to work the brick loose. For a moment, he thought he'd scream aloud to find the hollow stone empty, but instead he'd only give a haunted, heartless laugh as he tugged the small pouch free.

He'd found nothing new to add to his stores over the day and a half since his last visit, but this would be enough, it would have to be enough. He was sick of this, sick and tired of it. He was going to get out of here, and he wasn't going to wait for anyone.

Boss could serve and be doted upon by his mother and the Princess and all the rest of the court and servants, but he wasn't going to put up with waiting anymore. Pegleg could sit and scrawl his letters, sleeping at the foot of his Master's bed like a lame-legged mutt; he wasn't going to waste his breath getting him to leave behind all his meager comforts.

And Whimpers? If the gnat broke down into tears, he'd leave him behind right then and there without a word of encouragement or patience. Palming his trousers, Sneak tried breathing more deeply, the dust hanging heavily in the air as his eyes wouldn't focus properly.

The shredded papers he'd torn from the book what seemed like a fortnight ago, he couldn't read them in the darkness, but he knew what they said. There was something beyond the walls of the Castle, and although he didn't know if he could believe Boss's tales of adventure and glory, he knew that there was more out there than in here.

And with or without any sort of divine providence, he wasn't going to be held back by these ninnies any longer!

* * *

**Racism afflicts even the best of us when we're brought up around it. D: Tis a sad moral state. **

**The entrance of my Cannon characters is being constantly pushed back. I'm sad about this, but will mention quiet frankly that there are very FEW cannon characters in this story. They do come around and have more impact much much later though. I'm actually quiet stunned at how long this is shaping up to be. Matters was supposed to be over at 20 chapters, I guess the hope of 15 here in Time and Again is already shot XD**


	5. A Return on One's Investment

**Now, is this a double update from last week, or an early one for this week? This chapter and next are entirely planned out now. Fast and easy writing. **

**I love not having to force-feed you guys information. Very perceptive. **

**This story has several parallels to Twilight Princess and other games in the series. But later on there is actually a surprising amount of reference to the events in Matters. Paradox is fun! **

**And hopefully this story is too: Enjoy. **

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* * *

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**Chapter Four **

A Return on One's Investment 

It didn't take him long at all to find what it was he wanted… But making the preparations and getting everything together… that was more difficult. That took a lot longer than he would've liked.

'_Show 'im'_… No,_ he'd_ be the one doin' the showin'!

* * *

It was warm… warm and utterly silent. Nothing could be better than the soothing quiet around him. He could forget all of his troubles so long as the world remained blissfully unaware as it was…

He was with his mum again… she was baking something in the oven, probably for when his dad would wake up from his sleep- he'd been coughing and wheezing all winter, but he'd been in a deep sleep now for a while. Yes, some warm cakes from mum would help him… maybe he could have a bite or two of one as well, he always loved his mum's cakes…

"_Wake up!_"

The dream was gone, his tongue numb with the taste of honey and spices before he realized it was just phlegm from a night spent sleeping wrapped in musk. He felt paralyzed for a moment, feeling the aged curve of his small stool in their home for a moment before the stiff, sour weave of the threadbare mattress came back to him, the warm pressure of his dad's hand on his shoulder nothing more than a kink from having slept on his arm wrong for hours on end.

He wasn't home. He was still here… Here in this dirty, dingy, angry place. Here with-

"_I- said- git- your- arse-__** up!**_"

Noo! Not him again!

"Ow! Stoppit!" The bed vanished, and suddenly he hit cold floor and was being dragged again. The pain across his scalp flared up anew as grubby hand was fisted in his hair all over again, just like the day before._ "_Sneak, Lemme _go!_"

"Then _git up_ when I damned well tell you!" Respite, the other boy let go. Glassy-eyed from sleep and shaking from the rude awakening, he couldn't force down the sound that they labeled him with. He didn't like being called Whimpers, though he'd called it fair the day before last, but Sneak didn't seem willing to change his stance on things.

"W-whaddya want?" He moaned, rubbing his eyes with his fists, trying to wipe away the wetness of his spoiled dream and rude awakening.

"C'mon, follow me… And quit making those _**stupid**_ noises!"

He followed; he pretty much had to now. Vaguely, he wondered where Pegleg had gone, casting a quick glance around the room only to find every bed empty. The Cripple had been the only other boy in the room with him after Boss had left, unless Sneak had just hidden up atop one of the higher beds when he wasn't looking.

Their room was the same as the several others lining the dark corridor down here under the castle. Quiet for the most part, but as they stepped into the active halls of the Servant's wing the peace vanished. Following Sneak's grubby form was not easy, every now and then a few shouts could be heard from a room, down a hallway, or from someone towering right over them both but not talking to them at all. This was the first time Whimpers noticed how ordinary the pact between Sneak, Boss, Pegleg and now himself was under the palace.

You never saw one boy alone, or one girl for that matter as a gaggle of sooty-faced girls swept past, baskets full of black coal for sweeping fireplaces. Cleanliness also was something which wasn't greatly prized either, although the older you were the noticeably less grimy you could stand to be. One gangly fellow with a ruff of lace about his neck looked especially clean as he nearly walked right into Sneak, only to have the collision somehow avoided by the small boy.

Still though, always one older boy or girl leading a group of smaller ones, suppose it was a sort of apprenticeship? A manner of keeping the youngest out of trouble? Boss had worked the kitchens for a long time before being made a server- what had become of Boss after last night anyways? And both he and Sneak now worked with the ovens and carrying things. Pegleg didn't factor into that theory to well, not until Whimpers reminded himself that a cripple with dirty blood couldn't stand to get into too much trouble in a go anyways, unless he wanted to be carrion food.

"Where're we goin'? Sneak?" It was so hard not to lose him, Sneak just seemed to meld through the crowd, no one noticing him as he nearly went through them at times. At one point, Whimpers bit his tongue to keep from crying out as a passing boy with hay sticking out of his dark hair was waving a piece of bread around while talking to someone else. Sneak just upped and snagged the food right from his hand, darting off at a full run as the older, larger boy wheeled around with a holler.

After that little shenanigan, Whimpers -did- lose him. He ended up against one of the walls watching the people of the castle go back and forth through the endless maze of hallways like fish in a swift moving pond. He felt like a rock in the middle of it though, nowhere to go, and even if he did, no idea of how to get there.

Everyone was talking to everyone else, but he couldn't get a word of it. There seemed to be something causing a stir, but no one would stop and tell him what it was. Was the news which made two boys spit on the floor even related to what sent another clique of grunge-girls into a fit of giggles? Was it all just the same sort of gossip one heard on an open street, only confined to this underground boulevard? He had no idea, but if it –was- the same, he would've greatly preferred the open air and better smells of the town market…

Should he go to the kitchens? That was where he worked now, though he'd only been there for two days. He didn't like it so much, but at least it was somewhere people were aware of him. He hardly had time to talk to anyone there, but after that first episode with the roast, he hadn't done anything worth getting another hiding for… maybe he should ask someone?

"Blimey, you're useless." He nearly jumped out of his skin at that. He didn't ask what Sneak was chewing on, just gulped at the vacant look in the other boy's eyes.

He felt numb as Sneak handed him a lump of bread. Not the same one he'd snatched in the rush, but bread none-the-less. He knew for a fact that he would never understand this wiry boy, who seemed to hate him so much for no reason, and yet was the only one who bothered to give him anything to eat. This was the second time now… Why was Boss the boss when Sneak seemed to look out for him a whole lot more?

"And this time:** follow**." Biting down into the bread, it barely gave under his teeth, and he had to gnaw on it hard before he could crack through the crust. It was all crumbly flakes inside, but it was food, and one way or another it was warm.

He followed obediently, and this time he didn't get lost along the way. He'd thought they'd be headed for the kitchens, but instead he was surprised when Sneak led him down another quiet hallway, and up to a door which was more than a few shoddy timbers clamped together and hung on the wall. This was a_ real_ door, lacking stain, but complete with a real doorknob for turning, and a clapper for knocking.

A clapper which Sneak completely ignored as he began pounding on the door with one balled up fist.

"Pegleg! Pegleg you twit, open up!" He shouted, and Whimpers felt abhorred with this strange little boy in front of him. If Sneak hadn't had such a downright violent personality, he might've been inclined to beat down on him himself. He would've been able to on any other boy Sneak's size at least, the other boy was all sinew and bone for all that he kept finding food around everywhere.

"What time is it?" He hadn't known he'd spoken until Sneak paused his banging for a moment, not looking at him as he answered curtly.

"Near dawn."

"_Dawn!?_ That early and the castle's stirring like a busy bee hive?!"

"Not dawn, I said **near** dawn. Damn it, Pegleg,_ open the bloody door!_" Bang! Bang! Bang! He was going to wake the dead with that racket.

Whimpers just kept staring at him though, so early, even outside the thoroughfares wouldn't have opened up shop yet. Hardly anyone save the baker would be awake and working just yet, farmers wouldn't even arrive with their wares before the sun was up. Did this place just not sleep?

Finally, the door gave, and for a moment Whimpers didn't recognize the bent form standing there in the gap. Pegleg really did look different without those wire and glass bits over his eyes. He didn't seem to take Sneak's wake up call any better than he had earlier.

"S-Sneak? What're y-"

"Stuff it. Took y'long enough t' answer!" The cripple would mumble something about being asleep, but it wouldn't get through to Sneak. He'd reach out and yank the robed-boy out into the hall, letting the door slam shut behind him.

"You're mental!" With a shriek, Pegleg was sent off, nearly losing his balance as Whimpers- despite himself- ducked around to keep the lame boy from tumbling over to the ground. Sneak was just glaring at the both of them; arms crossed and face set in a stony expression.

"What's goin' on, Sneak, you haven't said a word 'bout all this…" Arguing lamely as he set Pegleg nearly-right on his bent leg, Whimpers would bend down pick up the scribe's table-leg cane from where it'd fallen to the dusty floor. Neither one of them was at all pleased with the wiry little thief. And Whimpers couldn't help but feel as though they were going to end up led astray by all of this.

"Here." Reaching into the pockets of his britches, Sneak felt around for a second before pulling out two thrice-folded pieces of brown paper. Neither Whimpers or Pegleg gave any indication of knowing that the significance was, probably since Whimpers just plain didn't know, and Pegleg seemed to have fallen asleep again standing up. So really, as Sneak held the papers out, he ended up waving them back and forth without any response for the better part of a minute.

"Take them already!"

"What are they?" Jumping again at Sneak's shout, Whimpers took both the papers. He hardly knew his letters, and the script across the pages was too cramped for him to read it anyways. There was a large glob of wax at the bottom though, a runny yellow colour, cheap and oily, but it seemed important.

"They're receipts, you ninny." What?

"I can't read 'em without my specs." Whining behind them both, Pegleg would appear rather downtrodden, his eyes squinting down at the dirty stones hardly visible in the low light of the torches burning every few yards along the corridor. There was no natural light down here; it was little wonder he hadn't known the time by simply running around.

"Receipts for what?" Passing one of the papers to Pegleg, the lame boy was screwing his eyes up terribly in the dark, bringing the page up right to his face and glaring at it, only to give up, shaking his head as he couldn't see the words. Whimpers couldn't tell if it was just the rosy light of the flames, or if Sneak was getting ready to explode again like he had last night…

"…could've bought a new set of boots, a cloak, a knife, and been a league from the city if I hadn't had to spend it on you loons." Well, perhaps not explode, but there was still tangible irritation in Sneak's voice as he cut through their weak complaints.

"What're you talkin' 'bout, Sneak?" It took him a moment to make the words come through, wetting his lips nervously as he found himself rolling the thick parchment between his hands nervously. What was this thing Sneak had given him? What did it mean? The wiry boy just gave them both a furious look.

"It means you're free you ninnies!" He snapped shrewdly, "Your debt's erased. Din's Fire but you're both dense!" Huffing and in a fit, Whimpers couldn't find anything to respond with. Debt? Gone?

What did_ that _mean?

"S-So Boss came through for us then!?" Jumping at Pegleg's cry, the cripple seemed thrilled by something, his blind eyes staring at nothing at all as a look of elation crawled across his grubby face. He seemed thrilled by all of this, but Whimpers just didn't understand it. "He paid it up, he really did it, so we're free men now!?"

"W-what's it mean…?" Free? He didn't understand, he'd been brought here to the castle by his mum, did this mean…? "Can I go home now?"

"Of course! We're free!" Had it been within his ability to do so, Whimpers didn't doubt that Pegleg would've started dancing, as it stood, he settled for bouncing on his toes and tapping his walking stick against the ground as a sign of his joy. Whimpers' reaction was slower in coming, but he could feel it all dawning on him.

"Home? I can really go home?" He was too scared to speak it. So then, these last few days were all just a bad dream then? He could go home, back to his mum and dad. Back to their small little home where dad did his carving and mum made up her sweet honey cakes…

"This's unbelievable! Where's he at Sneak? We've got t' thank him!" He could feel a tightness building in his chest, something which ached painfully, but warmth was spreading all down his limbs. It made the twinge in his shoulder flare up a bit, but he could forget that, he could ignore the discomfort, could he really go home?

He didn't know what to think, 'specially not when he looked back at Sneak to see the other boy white as a sheet, the layer of soot and grime permanently adhered to his skin flaking off to reveal the pale complexion. His green eyes were wide as though he'd just seen a ghost, lips thin and pale as he looked as though he were biting them from behind.

"Sneak?"

"Come off it, Sneak, where's Boss? He can't've told you to keep this quiet from us. We haffta see 'im!"

Silence, it slowly seemed to dampen down even on Pegleg's enthusiasm. Whimpers couldn't help but feel as though they'd done something very wrong in regards to the other boy.

"…jack…" He mumbled absently. Pegleg edged forewards, a frown on his blind face.

"Whaddid you say?"

"_I said he didn't do jack!_" The ache in Whimpers' chest vanished, or rather, it leapt up into his throat as he jumped. The crimson across Sneak's face came up like a wave, nostrils flaring as the other boy's infamous temper seemed once again roused. But- what had they done this time!?

"What!? What're you-!?"

"Jack! He didn't do jack! Boss didn't do jack-nothing, you miserable turds!" For a moment, watching him clench and unclench his thin hands in a rage, Whimpers wouldn't have found it surprising for Sneak to leap up and start wailing on one or both of them.

"But you said Boss_-!!_"

"_**No I didn't!**_" He hollered again, bellowing over Pegleg's argument with a furious rage. Even his eyes were going red now, the whites taken over more and more. He'd never seen someone more terrifyingly angry before. "I said _**I **_paid! I did! _Me!_ Not him! He doesn't do jack! Never! He's sold us out, all of us out! He's not comin' back down 'ere for us! He's gone an has no use for a couple of stupid chits like you!"

"Sneak, calm down!" He wasn't even aware of speaking up until he already had, placing both hands up as he stepped up between Sneak and Pegleg, the cripple having started backing away as the wiry one began advancing dangerously. Whimpers wasn't so much bigger than Sneak, but maybe had a season or two on him for that small bit of added height. It didn't seem to do much though…

"Calm down!? _Calm down!?_ Why should I be calm when the rest of you waste you lives on your stupid little fantasies!?" A little demon, feisty and furious, Whimpers had never felt so much dislike for one person before, but Sneak just hit all the wrong buttons inside.

"You don't make any sense!" He shouted back, feeling a rush of heat which licked at him from the back of his neck downwards, forgetting the uncomfortable lump which had lodged itself in his throat.

"Neither do any of you!" A break in the storm; that was what he thought of it as. Sneak's voice broke, and with that the smaller boy abruptly backed off. He stumbled back a bit as though shoved, though Whimpers hadn't laid a hand on him. Running his back against the wall, Sneak just seemed to crumple down into a small pile of long limbs and bony features, the colour didn't fade, but his screaming stopped.

"Boss was made a squire to the king last night." He said sullenly, and Whimpers tried to understand what was so significant about this information. Pegleg gave a small gasp behind him, but remained otherwise silent. "He'll be sleepin' in th' King's chambers, servin' 'is meals, lickin' 'is boots. 'e won't be comin' down 'ere 'nymore… Thuma's side 'erself w'pride, her arse-faced son standin' up at th' High Table…"

…Boss was Thuma's son?

"'e ain't gonna be doin' nothin' fer nobody no more…" Sneak seemed to be rousing himself, not in the same blind rage as before, but just picking himself up off the ground. He spoke with them frankly, fighting to bring the force back to his voice.

"He ain't gonna have no time to do anything t' help you two anymore. I thought I'd cough up the money for you, so I did. I'm not stayin' here anymore." Quiet again, the heavy sort which is hard to break. He really didn't know what to say right off the bat now.

"You've always been free, haven't you, Sneak? Like Boss?" Pegleg's voice was shy, and the question surprised Whimpers. Why ask something like that now? Shouldn't he have already known the answer? "How'd you end up here anyways?"

Sneak wasn't looking at either of them now, a low scratching noise reaching their ears, something he couldn't put a handle on until Whimpers noticed Sneak digging his knife into the grout between the stones on the wall. He always had that knife with him, didn't he?

"W-Well…" It was hard to speak, his feelings fading as the heat was gone, as was the warmth. He looked down at the paper in his hands again, still not understanding it completely, but enough so know to know he didn't have to stay here anymore. He couldn't help but give a grin at the idea.

"My mum, she lives in the city. We can go there." He offered happily, "My dad's been sick all winter, but I'm sure they'll let you two stay with us. My mum's a right good cook too, feed you something nice."

"Would she really?" Looking to Pegleg, he forced down the incentive to shudder, truth be told, the Scribe would most defiantly require some convincing for his mum. But, maybe it'd all work out in the end. Sneak's attitude would need a changing though; mum wouldn't like his language one bit.

"…You ninny." Speak of the devil, looking back at Sneak, the wiry boy seemed to have found his voice again, as well as some of that spark which made him so nasty and unpleasant sometimes. Sneak was giving him a look like a stupid mutt who'd done something like followed a squirrel to its tree, and yet not stopped barking loudly for it to come down.

"What?" He asked, drawing his shoulders up a little, he didn't like being spoken down to so much, he really didn't, but Sneak was just…

"You honestly think she'll have you back?" Deflated, immediately deflated. Whimpers couldn't organize his thoughts to come up with a reply, Sneak just barreled on without him. "She sold you once, y'know. Th' castle doesn't force no one t' give up their child." Why was this boy so cold? Why did he seem to hate everyone and everything around him? The sullen look in his eyes had vanished; this wasn't some unfortunate slave boy who worked the castle ovens, this was Sneak. This was the nasty little thief who wouldn't hesitate to claw, bite and kick to get the last scrap of food or bit of warmth.

"D-Don't say that." And here he was, unable to speak up against him. He hated this imbalance of power. Why did that small little thief have to be so damned frightening all the time?

"Why not? It's true. She sold you once, so she didn't want you. Why'd she take you back if she already threw you away once?" There was something so cold and hard in his eyes, and Whimpers couldn't find anything to rebuke him with. Instead, that tightness in his throat returned, his eyes feeling hot as his hands trembled even when he fisted them in together. "She'll just sell you again if you go back empty handed. Sell both of you if you both show up."

"And what about you?" It was a weak, petty argument, but he tried to make it. Sneak was Sneak though, and whatever weakness he'd shown, however red his eyes were now, he was still himself, and he was back to his mean, nasty ways.

"I'm not stayin' here, an' that doesn't mean I'll be stayin' in this city neither." He blinked, he couldn't help it.

"Where're you off to then?"

Sneak just smiled, just smirked at them in that way which only he could do. The one that made him feel stupid, like a bitch dog or a worthless inbred mutt. For a moment he thought that Sneak was just going to laugh at him, or leave them both standing there after some coy remark. But instead, the other boy just reached into the depths of his britches again, withdrawing to small, slim bits of torn paper. He read them over briefly, and didn't let Whimpers see.

"I'll be headed north, and away from this stupid land." He announced triumphantly, his eyes abruptly locking onto Whimpers in a way he most certainly did not like.

"Your mum sold you once, and she'll do so again, Twit. But…" He swallowed, hard, watching as Sneak seemed so much like a snake in garden grass. He could never tell what the other boy was thinking, it was impossible to know what schemes were hatching or how they were going to effect the rest of them. Too many variables, too strange a character… "But if you come with me, you'll be rich enough for a crown of your own." …What?

"What'er you on about now, Sneak?" Pegleg's whiny voice sounded far away, he didn't bother listening to him, watching Sneak alone. The other boy also seemed to be ignoring the Scribe.

"I jus wanna go home…" He replied weakly, and he knew his own conviction was waning.

"Boots and capes and cloaks, buy your mum a big house with servants for all the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry. We'll all be kings, rich lords of our own. No more scrounging for scraps, or running from switches. No more people telling us what's best for us while dealing down a hiding for sneezing in the soup." Or for dropping carrots, or for being smaller than they were, he wouldn't be sleeping on brown rushes and grey sheets anymore, would he? What would his mum think if he could give her a gown as pretty and ornate as the one the Ice woman wore? He could buy his dad his own workshop for all his carving and sanding and hammering, no more dealing with the man with those big hairy arms like tree trunks.

"…What… what do we gotta do?" Sneak's grin somehow doubled its size, but his face became all the more menacing.

"We're gonna go find somethin' that belongs to this country, and bring it back from the thieves who stole it."

"Thieves! Are you out've your bloomin' mind!?" With a shrill cry, Pegleg cut right into the conversation, and Sneak gave him a nasty little glare.

"Not real thieves, you stupid lout! It was taken years ago in a war, an' we're gonna bring it on back here to the castle and get our money's worth for it!" The cripple was sullen, maybe even a little afraid, his comeback to Sneak's statement was as weak sounding as Whimpers knew his own had been before.

"What war..?"

"Don' matter. We're goin' north an we're gettin' the stone back. Once we 'ave it, whoever wants to pay up the most gets it back." Whimpers frowned in the face of this so-called_ 'plan'_.

"I thought you said we was returning it…" Whatever_ 'it'_ was…

"We are, once we take it, we return it to whoever wants to give us more for our troubles." Whimpers could feel his jaw hit the floor. This wasn't a treasure hunt- it was a ransom!

"Oh, quit your whining! Imagine the pay!"

"Imagine our heads at the gallows…" Whimpers swallowed at Pegleg's comment, aware that- while Sneak didn't touch his throat- the other two had to feel around to make sure everything was still connected and in working order. Ransoming the King didn't look to be the sort of plan which worked out well…

"North, how far north? World ends after the mountains." Sneak just shrugged, and this was not helping to build confidence in their leader… Because, if Boss was gone, then Sneak was the leader, wasn't he?

"North enough to find what we're looking for." He snapped back, growing irritated with the whole debate and debacle. He held one hand out between the three of them.

"You comin' with me then?" He asked shrewdly. Whimpers hesitated…

Would his mum… really sell him? Had she really sold him the first time? He felt his fingers crushing the paper in his hands, the receipt of his debt being cleared. He'd been in debt, and hadn't even known it. He already knew that they didn't get paid for their work down here, did they? Maybe so, Pegleg was cripple and dirty blooded, so it would make sense if he didn't, maybe he himself just hadn't been there long enough to earn his first spot of pay. How else could Sneak've…

No, there were plenty of ways for a boy like Sneak to earn a spot of cash… He'd been sold, and now he'd been bought again. Was it really fair to call himself free, just because Sneak happened to have given him the paper saying the castle didn't own him? Wasn't it Sneak who owned him now?

He just… wanted to go home. But the other boy's words, they stung, they hurt and he felt almost haunted by them already. Would she just sell him again? How much had he even been worth to her? All he could remember now was how the gate had rattled shut between them, the glare of the sun behind her head, hiding her face from him. Had she really been sad and afraid like him, or had she been smiling, happy that she'd made a good sale..?

A good… sale…

"Alright, we're in agreement then." He hadn't even felt his hand go forwards, but it had, it was sandwiched right between Sneak's grimy hand and Pegleg's cold white one.

Sneak broke the handshake first, which wasn't unexpected somehow.

"Get yourselves ready, we leave today."

"T-today!?" Whimpers felt himself begin to shake again, but said nothing as Pegleg let out a wail.

"Yes, today you ninny! Day's not even started yet!" It hadn't? He suddenly felt so sure that they'd spent all day from before dawn up till the sun beginning to set talking about all of these things. Payment and riches and travel… What were they even getting into?

"B-But Master Scribe- My specs-"

"Grab your specs, grab your cloak, say good bye to the old wraith and then we'll be on our merry damn way!"

What in the _world_ were they getting into?

"I'm surprised he hasn't gotten up already to ask what all the hollering's about…" Whimpers replied dejectedly. Lowering his head, Whimpers watched as the Scribe shuffled back towards the door, fiddling with the handle for a moment before shoving it open. All was dark beyond the doorway, Pegleg only visible because of the white of his shirt under the muddy brown smudges of dirt and dust. His voice seemed lost in the shadows…

"Sir? …Sir?"

"Pansy…"

"What're we lookin' for, Sneak?" What about Boss? He couldn't shake that thought, something about all of this felt wrong. Were they just not going to tell him? Not even try to say goodbye? Whimpers would admit readily that he didn't know the older boy as well as Sneak and Pegleg did, but still, could they just forget and leave without even trying?

"A thing." The other boy answered shrewdly, and Whimpers frowned, wanting to press for more information.

"'bout the size of both my fists 'ere, one over the other. Got a stand too it, like a flower stem." That wasn't a good deal of information, but as Sneak took out his knife again and started looking over the edge, Whimpers felt his mouth go dry and stopped prying. He could only suppose he'd find out soon enough what they were looking for… But still, could they just not tell B-

Whimpers gave a jolt as a terrified shriek lashed out from the dark room in front of them. Sneak's eyes bulged open, knife showing a fleck of red along the blade; he'd been so started that he'd nicked himself with the edge.

"Master Scribe! _Master Scribe!!_" Another shriek, Pegleg's voice sounding terrified and didn't even know he'd started moving until he and Sneak got caught in the doorway together, trying to beat one another out to see what was wrong in the dark, Sneak's knife glinting with the feeble hall light.

"Pegleg!"

"What's the matter!?"

The cripple's face was white as he turned towards the two of them in the doorway. It was like the surface of the moon, so pearly and glowing in the darkness, hanging there silently for a moment. He didn't make a sound, his eyes just rolled back into his head and his twisted body toppled over in a faint.

By the time the boys made it over to him, he didn't seem able to rouse, and suddenly Sneak was off charging down the halls making such a racket no one could ignore him.

There the Master Scribe lay sleeping, his face an ashen grey, oddly clipped hair framing his face but not obscuring his marred features. His lips where white and all Whimpers could think of was how- in such a deep sleep- you could hardly see him breathe.

* * *

**The pronouns in this story annoy me, as in really –really- annoy me. I get confused with all the **_**'him'**_**s and **_**'his'**_**s, hope it isn't so difficult for you guys reading this. Is inbred mutt an Oxymoron? I'm using the dog metaphors a lot, but I'm a cat-person myself. **

**Sneak speaks with double-negatives a lot, I wonder how he'd react if someone corrected his grammar? xD**


	6. The Long Walk

**TTime for some music references: A lot of the songs used in Matters help with this one, specifically the Avril Lavigne and Elfin Lied tracks. I also love the Celtic music from Loreena Mckennitt and the Mists of Avalon OST. **

**And there's no music involved, but drinking Chai Tea also helps turn thoughts into words! I promise I'm only somewhat addicted to it, I don't make it too often, but I tend to drink anywhere from 2-6 mug-fulls when I do… Ahem. **

**Next chapter!**

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**Chapter Five **

The Long Walk

It made sense that the old man would croak the same day he wanted nothing more than to get out of this stifling existence. There was brief talk amongst the higher ranking servants of having the former Master Scribe buried in the crypts under the Castle, one of the few areas which had never needed be rebuilt. But the idea didn't fly.

So, standing in front of the small patch of disturbed dirt behind the slaughter house, Sneak was tapping his toes in steadily mounting impatience as Pegleg didn't seem able to move on his own anymore. Frankly, the stench of animal blood was making the boy feel ill; he wanted them out and away from this stinking place now. As in, right now.

"Damn it all, aren't you done yet?" He snapped; grinding his teeth as Whimpers was sitting on an overturned barrel. Silent, the other boy had hardly spoken a word since they'd found the dead man lying still in his cot. Sneak was convinced he had the collective intelligence of the dirt that'd been shoveled out of the way for the shallow grave. He'd gone and asked what all the hubbub about, and Sneak hadn't bothered answering him that the old man wasn't sleeping- he was_ obviously_ dead.

None of them had anything really to carry with them. Sneak had made one last foray to the Hovel, but there hadn't been anything there worth nipping for their journey. He had what remained of his funds, and the last of his fire sticks stuffed into his britches. In a stroke of luck however, he found that the rolled up bit of cloth that'd always been there was actually a dusty sack of sorts, so that was empty and slung over his shoulder by it's musty black drawstring.

"I'm comin'… I'm comin'…" The crippled boy was wearing the heavy robes which hid his deformities both above and below the neck, head bowed and covered by the heavy cowl of his hood.

The funeral had been a very brief affair, comprised mostly of looting anything valuable from the body and room, binding the corpse up on a litter, digging the grave some three or four feet deep, dumping him in, and covering it all back up with none the wiser. Of course, the boys hadn't done any of that, had simply stood by and watched since Pegleg had adamantly refused to leave before seeing everything through. Sneak had been considering just leaving the lame boy behind, but apparently hadn't done so.

"Good then, it'll be a long walk." A long walk they were going to have to be slow about, the scribe couldn't very well keep up with them, what with that stupid table-leg in his hands.

The castle from the outside was something even Sneak rarely saw. Massive and unfinished, he'd heard several times that however grand the old castle had been, the designers of this new one had exaggerated everything to make it even larger and more ornate. Of course, this meant everything from the spindly towers high above to the corridors down below were mostly unfinished.

If one wanted to look at it in a certain way, there were actually two castles, with the courtyard housing the smiths and the slaughter houses and the orchards in between. The servant's wing was –for the most part- conveniently built beneath this courtyard, rising up into the main castle which dwarfed the one in front of it.

The broken and unfinished flagstone of the courtyard might've been impressive had it been maintained, but Sneak ignored it as he cranes his head around to get a look at the spindly white towers above and behind them, reaching broken into the sky like a boar picked clean of meat. In front of them stood a smaller building which was grand on its own, just not in the shadow of the palace.

Tipped with blue-shingled towers, open gates on either side, he didn't know who had designed or built this second castle. It had only a few chambers for sleeping, and a small kitchen not half the size of the one in the palace proper, it was more or less just one big room, sectioned off into a balcony up above and small walk-ways along the sides for servants and lower class to scuttle about unseen. It was used for celebrations, or visiting dignitaries, but since it was always years between visits from anyone across the world, all in all it was a useless addition to showcase some past monarch's wealth.

There was also little getting around it, two outside boulevards of stone, but Sneak would much rather just go through. They could've come up most the distance through the Servant's wing, but he also wanted to make the point that they _weren't_ servants anymore. Moving through the wide doors, they were faced with the back of a great bronze statue. As much as Sneak would've preferred to simply ignore the metal beast, it was difficult not to pay attention, as it dominated the chamber.

Red carpets, blue stone, and sweeping stairs which he and Whimpers had to pause at the base of so as to allow Pegleg a chance to catch up with them. It was a grand hall, with a high vaulted roof and the Royal Emblem parted about the room. Unfortunately, aside from the statue, it was rather boring. And twenty feet of bronze melded into the form of a legendary hero loses its draw after a while. Besides that, everything was dulled, the stairs were chipped, the carpets raggedy along the edges and in severe need of beating, the red drapes were going brown, even the face of the statue was dusted and cobwebbed and in need of a polish. That didn't mean Sneak was going to volunteer to clean up the ignored hall of course, it was just something to think on while waiting for the cripple to hurry up.

They met no one, not after the courtyard at least, and they moved in relative silence through the hall towards the other exit. From there, a brook babbled by underfoot as they crossed the grey stone bridge and took to the dirt road leading down towards the first set of checkpoint gates.

"And where're you boys-" The guard standing at the plain arch of sun-bleached stone and iron wrought gate interrupted himself with a rude, full-mouth yawn. "-boys off to?" His helmet was black with tarnish, and the visor didn't look like it could snap down properly. Dusty from head to foot, he had a lazy air about him, the royal triangle stamped onto his forehead, the King's Lion on his left breast.

"Town." Sneak said simply, earning himself a squinting look from the second guard sitting on a little stool next to the gate, he was whittling a piece of wood with a short knife.

"You got permission?" The first one asked again, and Sneak looked behind him, motioning for the other two boys to bring out the papers he'd given them earlier that morning. The guard took and looked over them sullenly, accepting the somewhat less formal slip Sneak supplied for himself. He must've been ready to get off duty, it wasn't nearing lunch yet, but he'd probably been the night watch as well at his dreary post.

"Gwydion and… Arthur?" Was that Whimpers' given name then? He hadn't really been paying much attention at the time. The guard yawned again, but waited until he saw the other two boys nod, then handed the receipts back. With Sneak however, he paused. He ended up squinting down at the flowing hand of the old man who headed the bulk of the castle's accounts.

"Is there some sort've issue?" He asked smartly, well aware of what was confusing the guard, but not in the mood to be particularly helpful. The man just blinked, shook his head, and handed the slip back, wax seal in tact.

"Balan! Open that gate there!" He barked, starting the other Guard who lose his helmet. The shriveled piece of wood hit the dusty ground, and there was a shriek of metal before a small section of the gates was pulled away. The guard looked back at them with an air of suspicion and disapproval.

"Git yeh gone then, we don't want t' be seein' the likes of you boys here again then. Throwin' a good home away an' all. Go, git."

Sneak didn't hesitate, and although he was a bit slow, Pegleg shuffled through without blinking. Whimpers on the other hand, was a bit different, and Sneak huffed in irritation. Honestly, if he was going to end up waiting for the cripple at every turn, did Whimpers have to try and beat him out?

"Well? Coming?" He called, wanting to get the buffoon's attention. It worked in part, Whimpers lifting his eyes up to see the other two standing there- although Sneak motioned for Pegleg to keep going since he was so slow anyways. The other boy wet his lips for a moment as he stood there foolishly. Finally, regardless of whether he was ready or not, the guard gave him a firm boot to the backside, and sent the red-nosed boy head-over-heels through the gap.

"Oww…" Whimpering and whining like a baby, did he have no shame? The guards had nothing more to say to them, as though they just didn't exist once they passed through the door.

They started walking; there wasn't anything to really talk about just yet. There were two more checkpoints to go through, each one treating them the same as the first one, mild confusion, then a few bitter words and glances before letting them through. It was another one of the perks of being a fully fledged adult and work in the castle; no restrictions on coming and going from the palace. If a maid slipped out and never came back, no one'd care. But if a kitchen boy or grunge girl tried it- everyone'd be all up in arms.

"This what it's always like outside?" Pegleg's comment took a few breaths to get out- he was huffing and puffing as they stumbled and trotted along down the half-paved road down towards the city. Sneak could see bits and pieces of the sprawl over the occasional ridge; the ground on either side of the road rose up dramatically, bottlenecking travelers with carriages and horses, but with ample space for three small boys to make their way down. How far was the castle from the city anyways?

When they reached the final checkpoint, it was in the form of the city wall, built right out of the ridge on either side of the small road, with large wooden doors kept firmly sealed with a large crossbar. The guards behaved exactly as expected, and instead of having the crossbar dislodged so they could exit with grandeur, the three of them were let out through the small officer's door.

This doorway was different though, this was the last gate, the last barrier. Beyond the frail planks Sneak could hear the sounds of the crowd- the sun had risen in the time it had taken for the burial and their decent from the castle. The markets were well and alive by now, regardless of it still being early by most standards.

Whimpers practically leapt out the door, Pegleg close on his heels. It was Sneak's turn to slow down, to go last. He'd be damned to admit it, but his heart was beating thunderously in his chest. His face felt hot and he wouldn't have been surprised at all to find his skin a hot pink colour. He had to stop for a moment, take a breath… and step.

"I'm free."

* * *

"Gone?" His arms itched, his neck was raw, his head was sore and his ankles were numb. He felt as though he'd lost a layer of skin from head to toe, and yet couldn't bring himself to do anything more than just stare at the woman in front of him.

Mistress Thuma always kept a strong air of indifference around her, even with her own son. Not many even seemed so much aware of their relationship; she hid it all so well even when she didn't have to. She hadn't so much as stood up or spoken a word at all during the evening dinner. He knew she'd been present to see him though, probably prying or a look-see between the other servants crowded at one end of the hall near the kitchen doors.

He wasn't a knight like Elda wanted, but he was a Squire. He served her father now, not the general court. It was such an honour for him, he'd been scrubbed and deloused and given fresh clothing, even a small room all to himself attached to His Majesty's very own. It was all so much to take in so quickly. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought Elda really could make such dreams come true. She was a princess, yes, but a woman still. That she had changed everything for them in so short a time, he was in awe of her all over again. 

"Yes, Accolon, gone. I've said so several times already; do you need me to explain it again to you?" His knees felt weak. He'd been on his feet all night with hardly an hour or more to sleep. He'd seen his bed in the small squire's chamber, sat on it briefly while being made to sit and have his feet crammed into the unbroken boots from the king's cobbler. Fresh rushes, fresh sheets, the sort which only the nobility could have at their disposal. He was perhaps supposed to be sleeping there now, regaining his rest, and if not there then tagging along at His Majesty's side, waiting eagerly to be of service to him.

But instead, instead he was here, watching numbly as his mother gestured with one graceful motion for him to be seated on the small stool in the corner of her small room and office. She was seated behind a desk, reviewing numbers and papers brought to her from various areas of the Servant's wing. She was in charge of most everything which happened in the castle anyways, a very important position, with great responsibilities. Perhaps she had planned for him to be a Chief Stewart or Chamberlain once he came fully of age next year… Was she disappointed in him for already rising towards more?

But right now, it was difficult to think on what she thought of him. He just lowered his head into his hands, and listened to her strong, self-assured voice go over the morning's events for the fifth time.

"The Scribe Gwydion and the new kitchen boy Arthur both paid off their debts to the castle extremely early this morning. Before dawn. It seems that Master Scribe Peon at last gave in to his frailties and passed on last night in his sleep. I have yet to determine where the funds came from, but there have been no reports of any nobility losing petty money recently, so I am not going to cause any sort of stir…"

"And now they're gone…" He whispered softly, greatly disheartened by all of this. Wasn't he their Boss? Those boys were smart, but did they have any idea what they were going to do out there in the world? He'd been trying so hard too, the small amounts of money he ever came across in the halls, the occasional tip -as it were- from a generous nobleman or woman who didn't want their presence to be made known elsewhere. Was it all for naught then? What must they think of him then to be gone so suddenly, and without telling him either!

"Mistress…" No, he didn't… didn't want to speak with her like that. His new boots creaked terribly as his ankles felt ready to explode from the tension, but he rose and shut her creaky wooden door behind him, reclaiming his rickety seat to speak more openly with her.

"Mother, do you know how much was spent then? In total?" Looking up at her, she seemed surprised for a moment, unsure of how to respond. It was so rare for them to speak like family. Did she fool herself as well sometimes, into believing there really was no reason to favor or like him beyond what he did as a servant?

"It was… oh, it was…" Blinking, her hands went back to shuffling papers, and she needed search only a moment before bringing up two small slips of paper, marked with ink and a slowing hand. "Five rupees for the scribe, and another ten for the kitchen boy…" She settled back down after reading out the amounts.

"Fifteen rupees is not an amount easily raised at their level… did they have aid, Accolon?" There was an air of suspicion about her now, and although he felt as though he should be innocent of any blame, he couldn't… quite meet her eyes.

He wouldn't have told where the Lady Nimue was going anyways, but it was difficult to turn away money like that…

"Accolon."

"I'm sorry, Mother. I gave most of whatever I came across to Sneak for safekeeping though…"

"And thus you reap what you have sown." She reprimanded simply, and he was a bit surprised at how she didn't seem to be mad at him for having the money to begin with. In fact…

"Oh, my silly, silly boy…" His gaze fell to his red hands, he was chaffing his wrists again; something he found himself doing whenever worried or feeling guilty. He had to learn to stop that now; he was the King's Squire. He looked up when she touched him however, startled by the contact as her cool fingers nudged his chin to have him look up at her. There was a slight curve to her lips, and a softness in her eyes which made something inside of him swell up happily. It was so rare for her to look at him like that; he wasn't going to let it go to waste.

"You should have known better than to trust that little urchin with anything more than his own life." She said primly, and he frowned at the comment. But only for a moment until she smiled at him normally again, and he rose to wrap his arms around her, tentatively at first, because she so rarely allowed for displays of affection. She couldn't very well keep the household in line if she went about giving him a pat on the head whenever she felt like it. She didn't pull away or reprimand him though, and the happy feeling bubbled up higher.

"But now you don't need to worry about anyone else save yourself." She said softly, and he could tell she was smiling. Had she grown shorter though? He didn't remember coming up so high on her shoulder before… "There are plenty of others vying for those empty positions, I'll have them filled by tomorrow at the latest." His heart sank… they pulled apart.

"I still wish-" He tried to begin, but she cut him off with a reproachful look, frowning slightly before she began to brush his hair out of his eyes and begin pinching off any flecks from his newer tunic.

"Tut-tut." She said simply, and he could feel her distancing herself again. He tried not to feel disappointed by this, but couldn't really help it. "Worry about yourself now, Accolon." He tilted his chin up straight as she spoke, squaring his shoulders to meet her approval as their meeting was winding down to a close. She smiled again.

"Good, now get you gone then. The King should never be left waiting for his attendant." His Squire. Somehow that thought made him smile, and as she opened the door for him, he felt better for a reason he couldn't quite put to words.

Now that the morning was good and running on, many of the corridors were emptied for the most part. Scully-maids and serving boys were all topside; running errands, performing duties. Older ones like him- the almost grown- would be minding the younger ones tagged on to follow them.

That thought gave him a pang of guilt as he moved quickly through the dark tunnels and passages. His own little group was scattered now, he'd been elevated to a new rank, and they'd left their old lives behind… Had he done something wrong? He couldn't feel that all of this was well and earned… He didn't wish things back the way they'd been- not really- the discomforts of his new boots would fade, and the whirlwind of his thoughts would settle down soon enough. The boys would get along fine without him.

…Without him.

These thoughts kept him busy in his mind up until he realized he had long emerged from the Servant's wing, and was walking quickly down the halls of the Palace proper.

It was a long walk, trying to find the King's chambers once again. He nearly took himself the wrong way towards the Princess's rooms- and a dire mistake that very well might've been too. The upper corridors were little different from the ones down below, save for the lighting. Panes of yellowed, bubbled glass were often cracked in their frames as he passed them.

The windows were dreadful in winter, allowing the heat out and the drafts in. Heavy tapestries of ratty and dusty nature hung limply on every other wall, sometimes used to cover those windows when the cold became just too much. Dirt from years of boots and animals- several of the lords living in the castle kept a prized hound or two- was kicked into corners, and layered into the grout and stones of the castle floor. Perhaps if the tapestries got a beating every now and again the walls wouldn't be so brown along the bases, but who was going to volunteer for a duty like that? It wasn't _his_ castle.

There was no art, no pedestals for vases or ornaments. Aside from the bubbled glass and brown and ruddy tapestries, there was little to look at. The remnants of a long red carpet was beaten deeply into the floor by generations of feet, it was caked down as though nailed there by all the dirt. He followed it listlessly however, trying to remember where in the mass of corridors and passages the King's Chambers lay.

Blessedly, he did find them. It was a stroke of luck perhaps- although really it was a friendly bit of help from a passing Maid noticing his wanderings. He nodded his head to thank her, then stood stunned as she dropped her knees in a small cursty to him before shuffling off on her way with a pail full of ashes- grey flecks dusting down in her wake and adding to the muck on the floor.

He was the King's Squire now, not a serving boy in the dining hall. He'd seen that girl several times before, she was a full cycle older than he was, meaning she was higher up than him in their little underground world of servants and slaves. Her bow was something alien to him, bringing a heat to his face and hands. Was this what it was like to look into their society from the outside? So strange… so thrilling?

"Ah, there he is…" By the time Boss reached the King's chambers, he was terrified by what he saw. Several men in clothing of varying finery were milled about the doors to His Majesty's antechamber. Black velvet, yellow silk, green satin, tight pants with large buckles of plain metal, short boots which came up only just under the knob of the ankle. They wore shirts of various materials, drooping ruffs about necks and wrists. It was a group of the Nobility, and the highest sort at that.

In the centre of them there was reason again to feel a stab of fright. The enigma of his new position was forgotten as he recognized immediately the man in the long black jacket of satin and sparkles. His hair was feathered heavily with white, and slicked back with oils from an unknown land. His hands were hidden under the fall of the heavy coat, a heavy crest of gold resting across his brow as his face was adorned with a thin beard, shaved closely around his lips and combed to point down with yet more grease.

It was the King. And he, Accolon, the newly appointed Squire to His Majesty, was late.

"Majesty, I-" No, not a word, there would be no excuses it seemed. A dark cloud of anger surged across the large man's face. He was neither short nor frail, his robe not smothering him so much as pronouncing his status, wealth, and power in all senses. There was but a wave of one hand before the noblemen around him bowed and dispersed, like misty wraiths in the dawn sunshine. Without a word once they were gone, he turned with the grace of power and vanished into the poorly lit chamber behind him. Not knowing what else to do, the boy followed.

"Strike a light. I care not for the sunshine, it glares." The curtains were drawn, and Boss would not have been surprised to hear the chamber had not been aired in a good long while. The air was stale with parchment and dust, the entire room dark, the daylight from the hall and its windows reflecting off of bits and pieces of things the boy could not guess on. His Majesty was known as a man of his idle pleasures as well as he was for temper.

He fumbled only a moment for the light, before striking the flint for enough sparks to bring the first candle in the tree to life. He was careful with the oily flame, watching the black smoke flicker from its tip as he lighted several more in the tarnished silver stand before setting it back in its place.

"You are the son of Nimue…" He gave a slight jump as the king's voice reached him, the yellow light creating a dome of warmth in the black chamber. Turning, he older man was sunken into a large tattered chair which was placed between several small tables and desks. The boy noted a manner of odds and ends scattered about, glass tubes and bottles, stones of various sizes and colours- though the latter detail was difficult to make out in the poor light- twisted metals and polished discs. It was somewhat of a marvel to behold.

"Aye, Majesty." Turning properly as he spoke, he knew well enough from his days serving that subtle replies were not taken well. He had his feet together and his hands at his sides as he spoke, remembering to keep his chin up just enough to appear proper…

"And your father…"

"I know not of him, Majesty." He croaked instead of speaking clearly as he ought to've. "M-My… The Mistress Thuma swears by her right hand that he lives still, Sire." He didn't know what else to do, dropping down into as deep a bow as he could manage, trying to keep his back straight and not to slouch. He should not have been so intimidated by such a question, he'd answered it so many times over the years, told the other kids down in the underground wing about his dad and the stories his mum had told him for years while he was to small to work.

"…Hmph." He rose back up, and his tongue felt sealed to the roof of his mouth, like the time he'd let Sneak guile him into stealing a spoonful of honey from the kitchens. "Your name? I have forgotten it since last night."

"A-Accolon, Sire…"

"What?"

"Accolon, Majesty!"

"Hmph…" He reached out for something on the table to his left, a small prismatic stone which cast strange colours across the King's face as he held it in the path of the candle light. What a queer old man, it was impossible to tell what he was thi-

"Accolon." –eek!

"Y-Yes, your Highness?"

"In my presence, you shall not speak until bidden to, is that understood?" The tone was so shrewd; he felt the need to swallow the bile bubbling in his throat. He felt so off-balance here, in this dark room with this man who had so much of the world at his beck and call… He nodded mutely at the order to show his understanding.

Silence stretched, but he did not know whether or not to speak his reply, was a simple nod of the head not the correct response? The light was playing tricks on his eyes, as though the King were swaying back and forth in the after-image generated by the flames on his head. Everything below the point of his beard was lost in the shadows of the room, but from tip to crown, he was like a beacon, like the full face of the moon looming over jagged mountain peaks. It was a powerful image.

"Have you a mount, Squire?" He jumped at the question, swallowing again and shaking his head, was the king even looking at- "Speak, boy! Answer your King!"

"N-No, Sir!"

"No? You will not answer me?" Oh yes, yes he was watching, his dark eyes were as furious coals in the white of his face. "I am your sovereign, boy! Do not speak to me with such insolence!" For a moment, one traitorous, terrible moment, he could have sworn on his life that he saw the face of the Dark King from legend. But that was Blasphemy! Blasphemy against the King himself- King of the Golden Land!

"I-I shall answer my King! Majesty forgive me!" He was shaking, and his voice pitched and broke in a way which made him ashamed of himself. So much power over everything within his reach, heads rolled frequently in the centre of the city- or so he'd heard. He had no will of any sort to see if such rumours were true- let alone through his own experience! "I-I did not understand the question, Highness. No, no I have no mount, Sire, I have never had cause to ride anywhere from My Lord's service!"

Silence, again, and now he was on his knees. He wasn't even aware of having gone to them, only that he could feel bruises forming already from the drop, and his eyes would not leave the eerie shadows cast across the stone floor. The silence stretched, and he could hardly think past him.

This was charity from Elda, could he not overcome these hardships to be with her? He could not be so weak in the face of a man who had taken his daughter's wishes to heart and offered him such a position. He could not tame this fear though- he knew he must, but it was so hard…

"I am a hunter…" His lungs were burning, why was he holding his breath? The air whispered silently past his lips as the King spoke quietly in the shadows.

"As my Squire, you shall be expected to both care for my chosen mount for the day, as well as possess your own so as to travel with the parties." What was that tone? There was… something in His Majesty's voice, it bothered him, the familiarity of it… A smile? "Perhaps when you have grown more so into your ears, you shall have a chance to bring home a kill yourself. You are nearly grown." Praise be to the King and his mercy…

"Rise, Squire. I thirst." He looked up at where there was one hand floating without an arm or body in the darkness of the room, the King gesturing towards a dulled outline, quickly recognized as a pitcher by his kitchen-trained eyes. He all but ran towards the platter, finding the goblet already prepared. He was grateful for his training in other matters, knowing to bring the cup empty to the King and set it in his waiting hand, and then pour slowly. It was a dark wine, strong in smell and likely near as potent. He poured half way, no more, and waited patiently as the lot of it was downed in a single gulp, refilling when the cup was held out for more.

"Enough." He held up one hand, and obediently Boss crossed back towards the empty platter, setting the pitcher down while the King behind him swirled his goblet luxuriously in his seat. "We shall find you a suitable mount in the market. Ready my things for riding, and send word to the stables to have my ride made ready. I feel in the spirit for the black stallion, I have been meaning to breed him with a creature stronger than his mother. You may have her once she has foaled."

"T-Thank you, Majesty." He responded automatically, realizing his error and feeling an uncomfortable heat flare up across his face. The King's dark eyes were on him soundly, Boss bobbed down, seeking pardon for breaking the silence.

The father of his beloved turned away from him, swirling the wine in his cup. It was dark, and silent.

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**I have the intense need to conjure up the king from Matters and have him cane this new one. I think it'd be funny. ::Luffles Old King:: So much nicer! x3**

**I got through most of this chapter and half of last in one day. Praise me! I'm speed updating because I can. Better to get through as much as I can while inspired instead of letting it fester wanting to keep to 1 chapter per week! **


	7. Taming Thunder

**Two things that made me laugh in last chapter's reviews: The hate everyone always feels for my upperclassmen and putting the blame on the greasy beards xD Should my next meanie have a hitler-stashe? I don't remember if Salvin had a beard though, I know he didn't when younger in Matters, but the future segments... ... ...Crap, now -**_**I**_**- have to backread, meanies D:**

**Creep factor for the author: At Chapter 6 Matters had 29700 words (give or take) at Time's Pseudo-Chapter 6 it's already at 32600 (and some)... Booo! **

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**Chapter Six**

Taming Thunder

The sky stretched so high overhead shouldn't have had the impression on him that it did. He could deal with crowds, always had, but this was different. The dirt scattered around on the ground was familiar to him, the loud noises and yells of the people were something he knew. But the stink of animals was difficult to adjust too however, as were the clouds of dust kicked up by so many leather-bound feet. And the sky...

Like folded lengths of soiled cloth, he shouldn't have marveled at it, but he couldn't help himself. It was like walking through the laundering rooms in the depths of the castles, but near the kitchens so as to feed off of the warmth of the ovens. Thick bundles of wool and linens all hung to dry in the damp underground, if one hid under them all like he so often had as a small child, then that was what the sky looked like out here. Only instead of being just an arm's reach away, and reeking of threatening mold, the sky was untouchable, the air so clear it was cold in his lungs.

His serving socks were little better than the wraps around some people's feet as they shuffled down the boulevards and through the crowded thoroughfare. The variety of people was another odd shock to him; tall men in long coats would limber past them, the sort who looked to have sticks for legs as their knees gangling around them. Men dressed in dirty rags much too large for them would haul heavy bundles on their backs, following somber possessions of women in familiar castle livery. Children only a few years younger than they were bounded through the crowd with reckless abandon, occasionally a woman of fair nature coming across them and shrieking for them to return to their studying.

There were more soldiers like those they'd seen at the gates, just occasionally skulking through the crowded streets. No marches or flourishes, simply there and going about their business as quickly and quietly as they could. More than one would take to darting down allies however.

The dust was enough to blind, and he watched for a moment as Pegleg was forced to double down and hack violently as a particularly large gust caught him in the throat. Sneak had no wish to know what it was that was flung up at them from the wheels of a fast moving wagon.

Filthy pillars were caked with grime near four feet up their lengths, chipped and cracked along their tops as the boys passed under the crumbling vanities of the Empire. They had moved away from the checkpoints which led up the hill towards the castle- the monolith still looming ominously over them in the distance, a startling thought. It reminded Sneak of being stared down at by a nobleman unfortunate enough to catch him on one of the upper levels.

The markets were sparse for foodstuffs, but where there was plenty they had little trouble. A half dozen turnips, three potatoes, strip of dried meat, pat of hard cheese, a scarf, a whet stone for Sneak's knife, water-skin. Two cloaks that were much too long, so a handful of pins to hem them, a second rucksack, a roll of cloth for sleeping, flint stone for lighting, three candle sticks, and almost a second knife. He got caught and a swift knock over the head at the knife booth, otherwise, he managed to gather them up a goodly sum for their journey, all without spending another Rupee.

"A horse." They were sitting on the edge of a raised platform, an outdoor café with rickety tables and weather-worn banners. They were sharing a loaf of bread Sneak'd pilfered from a baker, the old man'd been shrieking with a customer so he'd made off with two. The larger, fresher one was in the pack over Whimper's back.

"Whaddya mean a horse?" Pegleg cooed, looking up at them from where he was sticking the pins into the rough brown wool of one of the cloaks. Whimpers had given it a go before and had gotten fed up; the Scribe had more patience for the handy work anyways.

"I mean we need a horse." He replied sharply, taking a swig from their new leather water-skin, and frustrating himself as he couldn't keep from dribbling some of it down his front like a baby. There had to be a trick to it… "Unless we want to go carryin' all this stuff; an' you're too slow to keep up anyways." Pegleg's back straightened visibly for a moment, but he thought better of whatever he had to say and knuckled back down to his work.

"We could… we could check Malo Mart…" Turning to look at Whimpers as he spoke up, it was mid-day already as he handed over the water for the other boy to take a drink from. He was grudging too admit it, but he'd only been able to pinch so much stuff because Whimpers not only knew the Market, but had distracted more than a few venders. Not that the boy'd known Sneak'd been going around behind him to make a grab the first few times, but he hadn't put up much of a fuss afterwards.

"What's Malo Mart?" He asked shrewdly, it was a name he'd heard before, but couldn't put his thumb on now.

"It's been around since forever." Sliding off the platform, Whimpers handed the skin to Pegleg before pointing across the crowded square where they were taking their break. There was a fountain several yards away from them, a broken symbol of the Kingdom spluttering water which they'd filled their skin from.

"That building with the baby posters?" Pegleg offered weakly, and surprisingly not to anyone's irritation. Sneak couldn't very well continue referring to Whimpers as the_ 'new boy'_ anymore, he clearly knew more about the city than they did, but it was hard to drop the habit so soon. Still, he turned to the cripple and nodded shortly.

"They sell horses?" Sneak cut in sharply, not wanting them to get to far off track. But Whimpers just kept on knocking.

"Slaves mainly, tha's why they 'ave tha' roundy-baby fer' a mascot." He felt cold to hear that bit of information, but swallowed any apprehension. If they sold horses, then they needed to go there.

"So we go..?"

"East, that way towards the other thoroughfare." Whimpers would point off across the square, one of the main boulevards funneling people down. There were more awnings over in that direction, stretching out from the buildings all the way up and along them.

"But it's right there." Pegleg argued weakly, but Sneak had expected him to. There was a building with baby-faced posters a lot closer than down that dusty lane, people actively dropping in and out with purses jangling and goods in hand.

"Tha's jus' their store front, don't keep no livestock in there." Whimpers answered moodily, Sneak was amused to hear the irritation in the other boy's voice. On his own turf, he didn't seem to like being questioned by the lame roundy. "Gotta go t' th' _East Thoroughfare_."

It took only a few more minutes of rest before Pegleg stopped his whining and picked up his stick. Their cloaks were still too long, but Sneak was more keen on eyeing the crowd for another peddler flaunting fire sticks than an old biddy with pins. If there was one thing they were going to need half as much as a horse it would be those spluttering little flames.

It was a long walk to reach the other thoroughfare. They passed down winding streets and tight alleys, Pegleg huffing and puffing along as though he were going to keel over dead from the exertion. Occasionally Sneak or Whimpers would have to stop and wait for the lame scribe, allowing him to catch up with them, or take a gulp of water before continuing on. They passed other fountains, less ornate than the one they'd lunched beside. Some spouted from building's bases with thin trickles of water, one or two were ornately made with women spiting the water from their mouths, or pouring it from jars. Always seats for washing women, and always old women and children running around or playing with it, ladies washing, gossiping, spitting at the ground or at the three grubby boys who wandered too close to them.

There were men with clothes of rags sitting under awnings of raw wool or thin cloth, protecting them from sun or rain or snow as the seasons passed. Whimpers looked at none of them, if anything he seemed to be smiling and at ease, but Sneak couldn't feel the same way. Had these people nothing better to do than sleep in the gutters? What was the point of their freedom if they weren't even going to work to better their own lives?

At one point, walking down one thinner ally, the three of them jumped suddenly when they heard a loud bang and scream from an upper window. It was a near-miss for Whimpers, who gave a yelp as Sneak grabbed his cloak and yanked him back. A pot shattered across the ground and spilt foul-smelling water across the dirt and tiles. There was a woman screaming and sobbing, a man's voice yelling loudly at her from up above. Pegleg had a poor look across his face, but the three of them simply hurried past the building and the rest of its block much faster than they had other lengths of ally.

It wasn't until Sneak's feet were beginning to ache and Whimpers had lost all colour that the awnings overhead made more sense than to simply provide cover for the jobless and infirm. Occasionally throughout the whole afternoon, the lull of a passing breeze would carry a foul stink if it came from between the awnings just right. Caked in grime and blackness, Sneak had noticed a sticky-sweet smell across each oiled stretch of fabric; they were there to keep down the dust and the stink. The tiling of the boulevards had faded in places, and now was gone completely. The relative quiet of the city was burned away with a drone like that of insects, or the Servant's wing at the height of activity.

Stone buildings gave way to wooden shacks and cloth roofs, the men became thinner, the women sharper and bitter, and the children seemed almost wild. Not a drop of water from any passed fountain was anything but yellowed and brown; the roads stank of decay and rotted food. Whimpers covered his nose with one sleeve sometimes, but otherwise wore through it, Sneak could feel himself gagging as he was more accustomed to the smells of burnt fat than festering flesh, and every few feet Pegleg would give a hoarse, worrying hack which would shake him from head to twisted toes.

The braying of animals and clod of hooves reached them as a deep undertone, the sun starting to redden in the sky as it was beginning its fall. The daylight would be gone in only and hour or two more.

"We'll get a good deal maybe," Whimpers choked at one point, and Sneak found himself copying the other boy, drawing his hood around backwards to hook it over his nose and chin. It was a poor substitute, the stench worse than the castle stables and the boys who cleared them. Like tiny hooks, the reek stabbed up his nose and made his eyes water. The sun was behind them was shining through awnings and casting ruddy golden panes through the dusty air. People's eyes seemed to glow, and if not for the sound of Pegleg's walking stick, it would've been impossible to keep tabs on him so far behind them. Sneak slowed just enough so that the lame boy wouldn't have to start calling out for them in the crowd.

"There, in here. Let's look here." He wasn't in the mood to argue, and reached out a hand waving for Pegleg to follow him as Whimpers darted on ahead. Warm light was spilling from an open building- out of place as it was of stone with a thatch roof, unlike its shack and shabby neighbors. Had dusk fallen so soon? Was the city truly so large as to take a day to cross?

Sneak didn't worry on it any farther than that, hadn't the time. He waited just long enough for Pegleg to catch up, grabbing the Scribe's arm and shouldering him roughly through the open door before following.

Inside it was warm, something Sneak was surprised to find, before he lifted one hand up to his own face and felt his cold skin. He knew he was reddening, but hadn't counted on winter's chill still holding true. There had been no clouds in the sky all day, he hadn't thought the brisk winds to be so cold, but clearly they were, since there was little more than two candles and a small fire to warm the room they stepped into. A long table- like Thuma's desk in the palace- was stretched along most of the room, dividing it into two parts, and Sneak felt his temper flare up a bit as the table was almost too high for him to see over. There were horse-shoes hanging from nails between the stone mortar on the walls, and enough space at the end of the table to walk around behind it. There was a heavy wooden door and a window of bubbled greasy glass behind the table.

"Well, well, lookit what we 'ave 'ere…" The man who was standing before them was a great beast as far as Sneak was concerned. His arms were wide as logs and covered in a sheer layer of black hair; a heavy mustache covered his lips and spilled into an unkempt beard. Black locks hung about his face as he turned his head around to them, ears hidden and leaving Sneak to guess at his lineage, though with colouring like that, he was most definitely foreign. And if he was foreign, those hidden ears were likely rounded along the tops. Poor soul.

"Master Lachlan!" Sneak blinked.

"Why, Authur! Is that you?!" The face under the mass of tangled black broke into a wide grin, and Sneak stood dumbfounded for a moment as Whimpers rushed forwards, planting his hands firmly on the table and vaulting himself up so as to stand atop it. Either Whimpers had shrunken, or the roof was much higher than Sneak had originally thought. He was so used to the low ceilings of the Servant's Wing and crawl spaces…

"Aye, Sir!" Whimpers wasn't… whimpering... In fact, he seemed downright chipper; speaking to the heavy-set man as though they were good and old friends. Smiling and laughing a little, it was obvious to a blind mute that the pair knew of one another, Whimpers had dropped himself down so as to sit on the high table, kicking his legs back and forth with his back to the other two boys. Sneak didn't know how he felt about all of this, but glancing back at Pegleg, the Scribe was just happy to be given a chance to rest against the doorway.

"Master Lachlan, y' wouldn't happen t' know how m' dad's been doin', would ya?" The large man seemed to give a bit of a start at that, and Sneak knew he was giving him a funny look. The man brought on soot-black hand up and twisted at sections of his matted facial hair, he looked troubled as he spoke.

"Now, now; Arthur. Lad, y'know better than that…"

"My mum then? She upstairs now? I can't smell any bakin' goin' on up there."

"_Arthur…_" This smelt funny… "This be a _business_, boy, not a half-way house… I thought you'd understand that…" Something wasn't adding up. He felt a shiver run up and down his spine, like one of the brisk winds from outside had found its way through his cloths and run across his skin. It was a creepy sensation, like feeling death at his neck, it was alike to the feeling he'd been having throughout the Master Scribe's funeral, that weak sense of dread. But this was stronger…

"Oi!" He snapped, unable to keep it in. Whimpers gave a start to hear his voice, the man's eyes snapping over towards Sneak as he could tell Pegleg was staring up at him dumbly. Fools…

"Keep yer focus you ninny." He said in a scathing tone. He didn't like where that conversation had been going. No, he wasn't going to keep the damned fool away from his darling mum if he wanted to go home that bad, but he wasn't gonna have that be the topic of discussion while the daylight faded and died around them.

Whimpers didn't seem to clue in on what exactly he meant, so Sneak gave a slight growl and stepped up.

"We're lookin' fer a ride." He stated clearly, watching as there was a strange look in the heavy man's eyes. "Y' wouldn' 'appen 'ave any horses for sale, would ya?"

"H-Horses?" He replied dumbly, and had there not been a table between them, Sneak would've given him a nasty boot to the shin.

"This be a stable, ain't it? We gots money; we wants a horse." That dumb look didn't fade, not completely anyways. "_Well?_" Fading… fading… almost gone and-

"Oh! A horse!" The dope, what, did he want a pat on the head now that he'd figured it out? "Right this way then, lads!" Sneak didn't hesitate to move through the gap between table and wall as the man ushered for them to come around. Pegleg gave a weak cry of exhaustion behind him, but lumbered on. Whimpers jumped down off the table on their side anyways.

"Finest horses in all Castle Town I 'ave 'ere!" Lachlan proclaimed loudly, leading them through the heavy back door with a harsh shriek of old iron. Beyond the doorway were several steps of tiled walkway, then a fence with a large pact-dirt courtyard. There was the ripe smell of animals back here, but Sneak forced himself not to gag as they were walked along towards the stables. Whimpers had mentioned an upstairs, but that must've been built somewhere out of sight. The courtyard wasn't empty, there was a second heavy-set man working in one of the stables, and that was the direction in which they were heading.

"What breed you be lookin' for then, lads?" The older man seemed to be enjoying himself greatly, but there was a coy air to his words that made Sneak scowl darkly. Did he think to mock them?

"Somethin' strong, Master Lachlan, it needs t' carry Pegleg here..." They were led down the far side of the courtyard towards the swinging doors of one wing of stables. There were a few muted curses coming from inside, hay strewn about as there were several stalls along both sides of the hall. The stable-hand had vanished, but Sneak paid it little mind, he was trying to scrounge up any knowledge he already had of horse-flesh. Considering how often Boss'd always talked about horses, he ought to've been able to remember _something_…

"Strong, lots of endurance. Hardy, we'll be travelin' far." Sneak added, looking into the occasional stall as they passed. Half of them were empty, probably having died throughout the winter.

"Travelin'? Where to now?" Lachlan stopped and turned to look back at them as Sneak spoke up, and there seemed to be an air of suspicion about him again, that irritated Sneak… "You boys ain't goin' off inta trouble now, are ye? Arthur." He'd turn away from him and Pegleg again, looking towards Whimpers with a rather stern tone. "Arthur, lad. Your mum did say she put you t'work in the Castle. What're you doin' down in the city again? I would'a rather taken' ye' in as an apprentice a mine, but she said no t' that. Why you runnin' from the castle then?"

"W-we're not runnin'…" Too weak, he said it in a voice that was far too weak. Sneak couldn't help the rush of irritation at how guilty he sounded. Damn it all, his purse was still aching from paying the extra rupees for the miserable runt.

"Look, Old Man, we need a horse." He cut in again, growing tired of the guilty banter. "A good, strong horse that'll carry our bags an' our lame friend here all the way north. We got money, now show us somethin' t' buy." As if to put emphasis on what he was saying, Sneak reached for his pouch, tucked away in the bottom of his trousers, and jangled it appealingly. He knew the value of his money, he knew there was enough there for what they wanted.

The horse merchant didn't seem to agree with him however, his face clouding over darkly. "Now see here, Lad, you'd better be watchin' your mouth in another man's shop or I'll be-"

"_Din's Blaze!!_" The cry was difficult to hear, the terrified shriek of a horse cutting through the air as the clatter of metal rung out. Sneak didn't even think before reaching out for Pegleg behind him, and shoving the crippled boy out of the way even before the danger was upon them.

Wood splintered down the line of stalls, a pair of heavy white hooves shattering through the barricade as a beast of silver and gray barreled wildly down towards them and out into the enclosed courtyard.

"You! You be the Dark King's man, Hal! Catch 'er!" Sneak sat up, a wave of revulsion coming over him as he spat hay from his mouth -having no wish to know what that salty bitter taste was across his tongue!- he didn't remember being thrown down, but he had been, clearly.

"_Din's__** Flaming, Flaming Blaze!!**_" A man came stumbling out of the shattered stall holding his head, but Sneak had no eye for him, watching as the white horse was stampeding across the courtyard, coming up to the fences around it with furious snorts and screams. It was a heavy-footed animal, tufts of hair around its hooves, it was nearly twice as tall as Sneak, and the ground seemed to shake as it continued its panic.

All three of them, Whimpers, Lachlan, and the other man- Hal- were shouting, but nothing was being done. He felt himself smiling, and noticed Pegleg giving him a shocked and very pale look.

"How much for that one!?" He shouted; getting their attention as Whimpers was staring white faced at the other man- built heavy and dark like Lachlan. The man had a splatter of red blood across his face from an ugly gash across his brow. He was lucky to have just that however; hooves like that looked like they could crush or cleave a skull with nary a thought.

"_What!?_" Why were they all shouting? The sound of the gate cracking had long since faded, Sneak was all but ready to holler back before realizing this, and spoke in a more proper tone. He couldn't keep back his excitement though…

"That horse, right there! How much?" All three of them looked at him as though he were… well, completely lost! A total loon he probably looked…

"What!? She's not broke yet, lad! You can't 'ave-"

"How do I break her?"

"_**What!?**_" Silence… Whimpers was just staring at him as though he really had gone loony.

"Sneak…" Coming up right close to him, Whimpers took him by the arm and spoke huskily to him, "T' break a horse means t' ride it till they ain't gonna throw you no more. Even I know that beast, let her be, let Hal catch her again an' us look at a different-"

"Chit." If possible, Whimpers' thin lips vanished entirely into a straight bitter line.

"Sneak-"

"Chit."

"Sneak, stop it-"

"Chit! Chit! Chit!" The other boy's eye was starting to get an amusing little twi-

"Alright, fine! That one!" Pegleg was whimpering.

"If you boys think you can tame that thunder-struck beast, ye can 'ave her!" The two men were standing there, mirrored in hair and build, perhaps they were brothers or cousins maybe. The one was still holding his head, blood drying across his face and sealing one eye shut with it, but aside from that they were twinned to one another completely. "Feed and strappings all included!"

Now that was a deal if ever there was one! Sneak could've clicked his heels in the air, his purse vanishing back into his britches as he grabbed Whimper's arm and yanked the other boy with him.

"Can't be that hard!"

"S-S-Sneak!!"

Despite his protests, Whimpers came with him with little enough fuss. He undid the pin keeping his cloak around his shoulders and tossed it across the fence, only to be mimicked by the other boy.

"H-have you got a plan..?" Thunder-struck he'd called the horse, well, he didn't know if that was accurate or not, but the beast was still snorting angrily at the dirt, pawing at it with her massive hooves. She was all silver and gray, mane and hoof-socks a silvery white colour that shone gold in the swiftly fading daylight. They were going to have to find some lodging for tonight, or spend it under one of those greased awnings.

"Get her attention; I'll get on her back." He answered shortly, giving the other boy an incredulous look.

"And then?" Whimpers was licking at his lips, white faced, but walking with him as they started coming up on the beast. They didn't have to gesture to one another, the two separating so as to move about to flank her.

"And then we break her."

"_Sneak…_" By the King's beard, he hated that whiny tone!

"Chit!" He hissed, and Whimpers' eye took on that irritated twitch he seemed to be getting a lot of.

All of it… was difficult to keep tabs of. Whimpers did as told though, the larger boy ducking forwards and around, and startling the white beast so as to kick up her front hooves and flail them dangerously. He hadn't any time to follow where Whimpers went to after that.

There was no saddle on the mare, something he hadn't taken into proper account before making this wager. He had almost no experience with the animals either, he'd spent more time beating on the Stable Boys than admiring the creatures they looked after in the Castle. Bucking and rearing as she was however, he'd seen it done in the courtyard during spring festivals. She went up, and he sprinted in as fast as he could, throwing himself at her back, trying to get his arms around her thick neck.

"Woah!!" He couldn't tell if it was Whimpers or Pegleg who gave a sluggish yell, or if they were all calling out at the same time. Not that the Scribe was involved at all, but still, he seemed the type to shriek out at the slightest sign of something gone awry.

His arms locked around the corded muscles of the mare's neck, and his face was smashed right into the spiny bristles of her sweaty hair. The stink made his nose wrinkle up in distaste, but he had hardly the time to worry about such a small detail. His legs were flying uselessly behind him, and he felt a yelp claw itself up his throat as his world seemed to be lashing back and forth without sense or signs of stopping.

"You'll kill us both!" The air rushed out of his lungs as speed overcame his senses, Sneak tried opening his eyes, but nothing but shimmers of golden sunlight and the creamy dun of the dirt courtyard came to him, the gray of stones and sheer white of the horse's mane. A pair of arms with a good deal more meat on them than his own locked around his mid-section, and his legs were pinned against the back of the panicking beast. They were both on her now, why wasn't she calming down!?

"_Shut up, Chit!_"

* * *

**The horse was a Shire by the way. I wikied for a while to find the right 'look'. xD This was a very odd chapter to write, so sorry for the slips in the Narrative. Lachlan was like… an Anti-Muse for me.**


	8. Lessons in Understanding

**Whoops! Slow to update this one, wasn't I?**

**YEY! STRAIGHT A's ON MID-TERM REPORT! **

**Hnn... Boss? My bad, next chapter!**

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**Chapter Seven**

Lessons in Understanding

A crack... A huge, gaping wound in the wall of the ancient cavern, it was a black scar across the stones which had sat there since the world was formed by the goddesses a hundred, hundred lifetimes ago... Sand had spilt forth from it, a pile of grayish silver sludge sitting at the far bottom of the cavern, though the crack was several lengths up the wall, the sand just seemed to be oozing forth, creating an eye-sore, but nothing of greater worry.

"Should we work to patch it?" He asked nervously, hanging in the water and allowing his fins to hold stiff against the steady current of the city basin.

"Maybe, might be best though to just send for proper masons." Turning his head to the side, he glanced questioningly at the guard who'd swum down to investigate the crack as he'd requested. Coral-laden stave in one webbed hand, Goron leather was stitched into rolls about the other swimmer's head, heavy fish bone reinforcing the helm to give it the look of a massive trout gaping at the steady trickle of silver sand. "I'll put word in with the council. Thank you for your help." He blinked at that, arching his back around so as to limber up a little in the current, the fins at the bottoms of his feet only just cleared his line of sight as he finished the sluggish flip. Dawn light was seeping down to them from the surface many lengths above them. The deep cavern of the city was still asleep for the most part, white coral giving off lazy glows so as to make it no challenge to view the scope of the damage.

"No, no, I'm just happy you came so quickly. It made such a terrible noise..." He felt a shudder run down his fins, disliking the aggravated feel of being so alert, he twisted his shoulders around now, flipping several more times, trying to get the sound of cracking stone to dispel. Perhaps today he'd swim up to the Falls...

"Aye, we saw it up at the Falls last night." But perhaps he would just stay down here!

"No! You can't mean that..." The guards helmed head turned towards him quizzically, knowing well that he was nervous and put off, but apparently not one for tact so early in the day.

"Aye, that I do. Sheer white light from the sky..." But, at least there was a sigh to his voice, perhaps he hadn't slept either? "Anyone injured as far as you know?"

"No, sir, but my wife... My wife, she's carrying..." He couldn't help but have his neck go tense as he spoke, a ripple running across his skin as he began nervously twitching the fins along the back of his head. The waters hadn't yet warmed enough for them to feel safe with a new life so soon, but they were both strong and capable, the Republic was also good about giving aid to cases like theirs. But after last night...

"Now now, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about." They were only several strokes away and that was how close they'd come to losing their shelf on the city wall, and their home thusly with it. There was compassion in the guard's voice as he spoke however, and it was the other Swimmer's turn to coil around himself a few times in the current. "If I might be able to see her though? I'm sure there's nothing wrong, but just in case. I can give you notice to see a healer at the Falls if it'll help settle any doubts."

"Oh, that would make us both feel so much better, I'm sure." The tension along his body seemed to ease out of him, and he was able to turn and propel himself through the water smoothly. One had to be a bit careful with the current here by his home, they'd been meaning to widen the doorway. But they hadn't gotten around with the permits yet, so it wasn't uncommon to rub up against the pearly blue walls while ducking through in line with the current.

It wasn't a large dwelling, but it suited them well. The carefully smoothed walls and oval floor allowed the current to break up a bit without leaving the water stagnant, his wife's talent as a city artisan decorating the chamber and their small private area in the back tactfully with images of shells and rolling currents. Across the dipped floor were the several trinkets and treasures he'd given to her during their courting years, and soon there would be gifts from friends of small toys and baubles.

"A pleasant home you have here." The guard remarked, and he felt a bit of pride well up as the other swimmer ducked his head down and around to admire the gifts placed carefully where the current would not damage nor carry them away. "Is your wife an artisan?"

"Yes, sir… Ruda? Are you here?" He called, although he knew that obviously she was, he'd only swum out for a few minutes to check the damage and make sure none had been done to their dwelling.

"If her time is coming close, perhaps she won't want to see me…" The guard allotted sullenly, but his attention perked up a bit as he straightened in the water, looking towards the slim hole in the wall leading into the back chamber.

"Ah, Ruda, there you are…" He said softly, her black eyes peering out from the lip of the wall.

Over the weeks her skin had lost its blue sheen, replaced instead with a latticework of white around her eyes and across her shoulders and head. She'd become more withdrawn as well, but that was all normal for a female at her time. She wasn't going to come out of their back chamber, she rarely ventured out unless it was one of her closest female friends, a family member, or himself alone in the home now adays. It worried him a bit, but even she would chuckle at him and claim it was all to be expected. She was pained after last night however.

"Something… something is coming…" The current past their dwelling was not as strong or crowded as others in the city and its many miles of sunlit caverns and grottoes. But her voice was so faint it was difficult to make out over the steady drone of the tide past their home.

"Ruda?" Drifting forwards slowly, he felt his heart go out to her as Ruda's white face vanished again around the lip of the cave.

"I think I should leave…" The guard seemed anxious as he spoke, and looking back at the helmed swimmer, it was hard not to feel the same way.

"Yes, yes perhaps so… Thank you for coming." With a smooth wave of one webbed hand, the guard shook his head.

"No need for thanks, it's all part of the job." There was a smile to his voice at least, it was only the discomfort of males around that which they couldn't quite understand. Even if carrying an egg was entirely natural, if it could have such an effect on females, did he really want to know much more about it than he had to? "Someone should be by later today with a pass for your wife to see the Healers at the Falls, just in-case."

"Thank you, thank you very much." He drifted over towards the hole in the chamber wall, blocking it slightly so as to try keeping Ruda from anymore distress.

"Good day,"

"Good day, sir." Pulling his head back, the Guard spiralled once through the chamber, building up a bit of speed and momentum before propelling himself back out into the current of the city pass. His leave was silent and smooth despite the cramped space, and he didn't so much as graze the edge of the chamber opening.

"S-something… something is coming… Otto…" Turning towards the shy voice at his back, he could see the filmy white of his wife's fins along the edge of the portal. His own fins stiffened with anxiety, but he tried to be calm as he pushed his head and shoulders through the opening slowly.

"Ruda…" She swirled away from him when he came close, and he had to force himself not to be hurt by this. She just wasn't feeling herself, that was all, it would pass once the egg came…

"Something… Something's coming…" She was so white now, the coral lamps had gone out in their circular chamber, but she was huddled against one wall as a coiled length of white flesh and fin. The water was icy cold, and as he entered he purposefully fanned his fins about, drawing the warmer current from the outer chamber in, swirling it a bit before kicking up a bit closer to her.

"Hush now, Sweet." He said softly, nudging the side of her broad head to the side with his face, he was relieved when she responded to him, her fins relaxing, drifting through the water like the fine film of sea bubbles. "It was a lightning strike last night, from the mountain… There's a crack outside, but it's nothing, the guards from the Falls have checked it…"

"Something's coming, Otto… I can feel it…" So pale, so small even, she wasn't eating anymore.

"Hush now… Hush…" But the time was coming, their time. Soon she would be herself again.

"Something's coming…"

* * *

His. Head. Hurt. If only for a little while at least. There was a numb sensation all along his sinuses, and his shoulder ached like it had when he'd got up that morning. Waking up in the Castle felt like a long time ago, in fact it felt more like a bad dream, just a hazy black image on his memory. It wasn't the musk of yellow rushes and dust that surrounded him now. It was all familiar smells, friendly smells. Scented wood, musty wool, the occasional whiff of something sour from the horses. It smelt like…

'_Home…' _

"I think he's wakein'!"

Only home didn't sound like a lame Roundy Scribe…

"Oi, Arthur! 'bout time you be wakein', Lad!" It did sound like that though.

Sitting himself up weakly, Arthur… Whimpers, cracked his eyes open slowly, the room was light, pale grey stones with wooden timbers making sure the building was sound and good. Rafters up overhead betrayed it as being the upper floor, and even before looking around he knew the window would be facing west as always, down onto the wide square courtyard, the forge and his father's workshop right under his feet.

Looking around, he caught only a glimpse of Pegleg's robes as the scribe busied himself with getting far and away down the hall, and the boy could only briefly wonder how well the cripple could manage the narrow stairs to reach this second level. And briefly, because of who had entered just before.

"Master Lachlan." Smiling widely, everything seemed like a dream to him, so he hardly noticed the pack and sheathe in the heavy Stable Master's hands as he crossed the small chamber to the bedside and sat himself down at the foot. He was such a large man that Whimpers had to shuffle back somewhat, so as to keep the flimsy bed from tipping on one corner.

"Aye, Lad. Your friends've told me what yer up to." Watching the heavy-set man settle himself, the pack was one of rough leather, faded straps which looked like threads in his meaty hands, but which Whimpers recognized as being rather thick if worn by him instead.

"My friends?" He asked, surprised to find that he wasn't revolted by the idea. A frightening, skinny little runt and a crippled Roundy, his friends? Huh…

"Aye, Lad. Dunna look at me that way." There was a frown across Lachlan's face, so really that was a difficult request to honour. The Stable Master sighed.

"I'm not one t' send boys out int' the world like men 'fore I think 'em ready. Yer ma's made some stupid mistakes in 'er days, lad, an' I dun wanna have you followin' 'er like that…" The sheathe was something of interest, though not ornate, he'd never seen a weapon like that in the Stable Master's keep. And he knew these stables well; the kitchen where his mum did all her baking was downstairs and round the other side of the forge, his dad helped with the shoeing and fixin' of things all round the stable yard, blacksmith by profession, but carpenter by true trade.

"What'ye talkin' 'bout? What's my mum done stupid, Master Lachlan?" He asked defensively, not liking to hear her spoken about like that. Gossipping was women's business, why was the Stable Master trying to get him to do it, and about his own mum no less? Lachlan just stared at him blankly.

"She did sell ye t' the castle, lad! I offered t' take ye in as an apprentice a mine, yet she started hollerin' and screamin' at me, so I did turn her out instead. Next thing she do, she spend three days out on the streets with you, my offer of 'pprenticeship still hangin', she send you off t' the castle an-"

"You turned my mum _out!?_" He didn't know he'd shouted until the words came ringing back into his ears. The sudden impulse to drop down and play dead so as to avoid a hiding was enough to make him gag, but he could feel his face all flushed, and see the startled look on the large man's face.

"Lad, this be a business, not a halfway house. I keep tellin' ye that, yet I dunna think you understand me!" He felt his tongue curling in his mouth, trying to force its way down his throat, but he croaked out a defiant reply anyways, and it limbered him back up.

"My da's your best mate! I was born 'ere an' you go turnin' us out!? Where is 'e? I wanna see 'im! Where's my dad!?"

"Arthur…" There was such a strange look across the Stable Master's wide face, his dreadlocks hanging limp about his face and giving his skin an ashen complexion. His eyes made him seem as though he were looking at something long and far away.

"Where is he!?" He repeated loudly, something was ticking in his mind, and pieces felt like they were falling slowly into place. But whether answers were coming to him along with that realization, he neither wanted to know, nor would allow himself to. "Where's my dad!? Tell me!"

"Arthur, calm down…" He felt the stable-master's heavy hands set themselves on his shoulders, and tried to shake them off, writhing away and kicking at the blankets.

"No! My dad! Where's he!? I wanna see him!" There was a sound he could hear, a fevered crescendo in his ears, drumming away loudly so he could hardly tell he was speaking. There was a hot panic gripping him, it had a hold firmer than Lachlan's could hope to be, and his mind was blanketed by it.

"Arthur! You're father is dead!" Silence. The pounding and the beating came to an abrupt stop, he felt numb as he was held there, staring dumbly up at the large man lording over him. There was no anger about the Stable Master though, something which should've been a great shock to him, but wasn't. He couldn't find the breath to say anything, just sat there, legs tangled in the blankets of the bed, his arms felt like great blocks of wood, the coarse sort his father was always carving into little nick-knacks to sell in the markets.

"_He died nigh a week ago, Arthur…"_ Lachlan's voice sounded so far away, like he wasn't speaking at all, but that Whimpers were remembering it all instead. _"Then your mum and I had a row, and she took ye off an' sold ye…"_

Whimpers, yes, that was his name now. He wasn't Arthur anymore; his dad hadn't been sleepin' that morning, because he'd been gone. He'd gone far away from Arthur and his mum.

"_You boys gave us quiet a scare, y'know? Yer friend with the nasty lil' tongue, he got a right big bump on 'is 'ead." _The world was dark around him, not for a lack of light, but that he simply couldn't see anything. He wasn't blind, and his eyes were open, he just couldn't see, none of the shapes or colours meant anything to him in his mind._ "Sky lit up like lightnin' a'fore you fell though, big flash 'o white an then th' both of ye were down on th' ground, dead weights the both of ye…"_

"_I'm not one t' send boys out in t' th' world 'fore I think em ready… But I was talkin' wit' those friends a yours."_ It just didn't make sense to him, when you fell asleep, where did you go? It always looked so much like sleep; wasn't it the same?

"_It's dangerous, what ye be goin' after. But I can't keep ye back if it's what ye want. You un'erstand though that I canna go givin' a prime mare like that white fiend to a couple'a lads like you, right?" _

"_Your friends've got a map now, they're waitin' for ye down stairs." _

Wasn't it the same?

"…_Arthur?" _

_

* * *

_

"Hoy! Pay attention!" Sneak wasn't in a good mood.

Then again, he was never in a good mood to begin with, so it was no different now. Whimpers looked up from where he'd been watching his feet across the dirtied lanes of the city. they were leaving now, had already left the stables behind. Sneak was mad at him; he'd made them stall for longer than he'd wanted to after gettin' out of bed and seein' his dad's gravesite.

They'd both conked out all night it seemed. The last thing Whimpers could remember was that white mare in the courtyard, how Sneak'd goaded him int' tryin' t' stop an' break it. Well, that hadn't gone well at all, she'd just bucked and reared and clearly sent them both to the ground. Lachlan had mentioned hearing a thunderbolt, a fierce crack of lightning, but Whimpers wasn't so sure. It might've just been the reins snapping as the two of them dropped off the mare's back like dead weights.

"S'I was sayin'… At least we dun haffta carry so much stuff n'ymore…" The deal had been that if they broke the mare, they could have her. Clearly they hadn't done that, and Sneak wasn't mental enough to try it again, so the deal was off. Still though, that morning when Lachlan had left him be with the sword, he'd stepped up to the window to see one of the stable hands putting the white mare through her paces, tame as a lamb. It was a strange thought, but maybe they really had played a part in breaking the wild thing.

Not that they got her, or course. Sneak had turned a nasty plum colour to hear that, but some sharp hollering and yelling from Lachlan had silenced him up and good. Frankly, Whimpers and Pegleg were ecstatic with what they did get out of everything. The Scribe especially was pleased and ogled over the new blade Whimpers had awkwardly strapped to his own hip, and the ruddy pack animal Lachlan had packed their supplies onto moved at a pace the lame boy could keep to solidly.

Pegleg wasn't much of a rider, but the mount wasn't much of a ride either. It was a mule, just a dopey, slow, friendly work animal good for little more than hauling weights and carrying burdens. Even its colouring was bland; dull brown and grey fur, long ears flickering lazily from side to side, garbling pink tongue lolling to and fro if it felt too lazy to close its jaw like a decent animal would. Still though, there hadn't been a price tag to him, and that'd been enough to satisfy Whimpers. The free blankets, saddle, and harnesses had to be fought for by Sneak, but after tossing in a bag of feed for the road, even the wiry pickpocket had to be content. And he was.

"Oi, what's up that way?" Looking up from his shoes again with a start, Whimpers stepped up a pace and couldn't help but ram clumsily into Sneak's back. Since he was holding the reins to lead the mule on, the creature bumped into him as well, making things worse as Sneak stumbled ahead before whirling around, nostril's flaring.

"Bugger all!" He cursed rudely, "Watch where you're goin', you twit!"

"Stuff it, Sneak, what're you goin' on 'bout anyways? What's where?" There was just no point in being polite with Sneak; he'd learned that well enough by now. It wasn't even something to get him a lickin' from the other boy either. In fact, Sneak probably even responded better to rudeness than trying to keep manners and talkin' civil. He didn't beat around the bush at all, just jerked his head to the side and gestured up one of the side streets, but this one was different from the others, and Whimpers knew why.

"Up that'a way." The castle boy said simply, and the mule behind them gave a huff as Pegleg started adjusting himself, clearly trying to see around the bend.

Across the passage of foot traffic where they were now stalled, there was a line of grimy grey buildings which broke off for a wide boulevard, slanting up a short hill and around a corner. The walls along both sides of the boulevard were purposefully built here, not ram-shackle like the better part of the city. Details on stones, marks on the half-hidden cobbles, it was an important road, or at least had been.

"Leads up t' the ruins." Whimpers answered simply. It was surprising sometimes what these two just didn't know about the city. To think that they'd lived here their whole lives was a bit odd sometimes, then again this was also supposed to be their first time out and away from the castle way up on the hill beyond its gates.

"Ruins?" Sneak stopped and gave him a funny look, the mule snuffing at Whimper's shoulder as Pegleg remained silent as they spoke. Sneak's brows were twisted in a way which made him look like a grumpy old man, his mouth all burred up like he'd bit a stone and chipped a tooth. But he didn't seem especially angry.

"What? Yeah, ruins." He repeated, Sneak was giving him a funny look, but then he noticed that the other boy was just looking past him instead. What was this then?

"What kind've ruins? Old ones?" Why the stupid lum-

"No, brand-spankin' new," He bit back before he even thought the words through, Sneak's brows snapped right up under his grimy hairline. "Just finished puttin' a bit a plaster on th' walls last month- a course they're old, Sneak! Been there longer'n half the city, they 'ave." If anything, Sneak now looked intrigued.

"C'mon, let's go." He said abruptly, taking hold of Whimper's arm and giving him a tug, meaning the Mule came too as he took a step towards the road.

"Are you mental!?" Whimpers hollered; he could feel his face heating up with indignation. "All you been sayin' all mornin's been _'Hurry up'_,_ 'git yer stuff'_, _'wastin' daylight'_, now you wanna go sight seein!?"

"Yup." They crossed the traffic, somehow avoiding two large wagons, one of which holding a wooden cage on top, grimy bodies reaching out with a foul stink that made Whimpers draw his cloak over his mouth again. 'pparently there was good money in Slaves.

The noise of the streets faded quickly once they hit the old cobbles and started plodding along up them. It was uphill all the way unfortunately, the windows overhead boarded up and silent since there were probably only squatters around, and squatters had things to do during daylight hours. The only intersecting streets they passed were small alleyways, the ones that were intended only for wastes and rainwater, not foot traffic of any kind. The walls were chipped and crumbling all around, and the Mule made a few unpleasant sounds as it kicked away at the ground with its hooves.

"There they are."

The first real sign of the ruins was the wall around them. High and crumbling, with flecks of old plaster and paint worn away by the rains. There was a wide series of steps leading towards where once a massive gate had stood, but the metal had corroded and collapsed with time, only the long bars remaining, long red streaks underfoot as they climbed the short steps. They entered into a courtyard of broken stones, grasses pushing up between the powdered grout, stones upturned and the ruined faces of ancient statues stared coldly at the grey sky.

"Blimey," Pegleg breathed, looking across the courtyard towards the main attraction. It was indeed impressive.

A large building, or at least what remained of one, stood atop another series of grey steps. Where there had once been flower beds were now brown heaps of dead weeds and mice nests. The building was long and angular, but came to a high point at the top. Made of grey, veined stone, it was a marvel in the sunlight. The high windows running along the body of it were amazing in the summer day, but there was cloud-cover hanging overhead now, so they seemed like nothing more than slats of dirt and grime.

"What's inside?" Sneak piped up sharply, getting the attention of the other two boys. Looking up towards Pegleg, Whimpers felt himself going a bit hot in the face again. They were both watching him closely, expecting answers. Somehow, his ire with Sneak managed to fail him.

"D… Dunno." He admitted sheepishly, Sneak rolled his eyes and the lame scribe frowned.

"Well, roof's all cavin' in." Pegleg commented, looking up towards the top of the building from behind the thin glass of his specs. "So's prolly nothin' more in there than rubble an' rot." He wasn't quite right about that, looking up, there were indeed numerous holes in the roof, but the bulk of it was still hanging on. How strongly, he didn't want to know, but it held anyways.

"Doors're locked." He said, watching as Sneak started marching away from them both, his eyes were crawling over every stone and tile. He seemed agitated, but that was only until Whimpers reminded himself of who he was dealing with. Taking up the mule's reins, Whimpers followed, leading Pegleg and the animal along.

The doors were massive. The Royal insignia was carved into what looked like a pair of stone hands, the details worn away by the elements, but their basic shapes still clear as day. There was the proud outline of the King's lion, not to mention other beasts. Cows, people, birds and snakes were all around it, circling the triangular symbol of Hyrule. By the time Whimpers made his way over, Sneak was pouring over these carvings, and waving for Pegleg to make his way over.

"Hoy, don't these symbols look familiar to you, Pegleg?" The pickpocket asked, his voice as haughty as ever, but now it was Whimper's turn to be intrigued. He watched as Sneak actually took the time to help bring the scribe closer to the doors- while maintaining his seat of course, and was surprised with how patient the other boy was as Pegleg squinted and studied them.

"From that book I showed you, 'member?" Well, patient by comparison to how he _normally_ behaved at least. Surprisingly, Pegleg was nodding.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh…" Reaching out, the mule shuffled its stubbed feet against the cobbles, allowing the lame boy to physically touch the carvings.

"Goat… Lemur… Falcon… and…" He frowned, but now all three of them were crowding around closer to the door and its strange symbols. Feeling a bit sheepish as he bumped into the mule's nose, Whimpers offered it a pat on the snout before giving his attention back to the other boy. What was a Lemur?

"This one I dunno…"

"Looks like a snake. Wasn't there a snake in the book?"

"Yeah, but I can't…"

"Hoy!" Cutting in on their little club time, Whimpers shuffled around to get their attention again proper. "What'er you nattering on about? What's all this supposed t' mean?" Sneak gave him the sort of bitter look that he immediately guessed was going to lead to a tussle, but surprisingly, it was Pegleg who spoke up first.

"They're the symbols of the Provinces." He said simply, and Whimpers just blinked. What practical use was knowledge like that in the world? Still though, he followed Pegleg's hand as the other boy touched the stones.

"The Goat for Ordona…" Not a cow then. "The Lemur or Monkey for Faron," Oh, he'd thought it a person. "Falcon for Eldin Province, and…" His hand strayed lower, hovering over the snake as he frowned bitterly.

"That's our province." Sneak cut in, looking between them as he slowly took a step back, gazing up towards the top of the doors several feet overhead. "Lannayru."

"The snake?" He offered lamely, and Sneak gave a dismissive shrug. He seemed finished with examining the door, and was antsing around, stirring up dust under his feet.

"You ready t' head back t' the road?" Whimpers called to him, watching as Sneak seemed to be jumping around still. Pegleg seemed disheartened for not remembering the name of the creature, but Whimpers didn't care to know such trivial information anyways. It was no good. Who cared about the provinces? What was a province anyways? And why had a couple of servant slave boys even bothered to learn that stuff?

"No, I wanna get a good look inside first." Blinking, Whimpers watched as Sneak came back and started trying to stick his fingers into the cracks between the two doors. The handles had fallen off or been stolen long before.

"Told you, it's locked." He said dismally, urging the mule to back up a bit as Pegleg was beginning to sigh and droop a little on his perch. "No one's gotten in there since…"

"Since when?" He balked. Why did Sneak care so much?

"I dunno, since… since a long time ago. 'Fore the war."

"The Goron war?" Sneak was still trying, getting a weak hold on the tail of the unnamed snake. The artisan had made it come away from the door just a little. Although it was worn down, Sneak still got a hand around it, and was pulling and pulling as his face and ears went cherry red.

"Y-yeah…" Whimpers wasn't going to help, he'd resigned himself to that already. Deffinitly not going to-

_**CRACK!**_

Had it been anyone but Sneak, watching him tumble head-over-heels backwards down the stairs might not've been so very amusing. The snake's tail had not been intended for use as a handle, and gave way rather unexpectedly. Just to put emphasis on the thickness of the door however, while covering his laughter with one hand, Whimpers noted that despite the large chunk of stone in the other boy's hands, it made hardly a dip in the door to lose it.

"Done yet, Sneak?" He asked with a sigh, smiling jovially, hoping that perhaps a bit of mockery would make Sneak see reason and let them get on their way. This was his adventure plan after all, if he wanted them to get anywhere he'd do well to stop messing around.

"Not till I get inside." Spitting bits of dust and dirt from his mouth, Sneak took a moment to examine the inside of his mouth with his tongue, taking inventory of all teeth. Apparently they were all present and accounted for, because he only spat once more, and was in no visible pain.

"How'd'you plan on doin' that then if there's no door, an' the roof's too high t' climb?" Leaning his back against the wall of the building, stretched over his head was the high iron-framed length of one of the windows running along the length of the special complex. He'd never learned what the ruins had once been; they'd just always been there. Some of the panels were cracked, but he wouldn't have minded knowing just what they'd looked like all clear and shiny clea-

"Duck!"

_**CRASH!! **_

The scream of shattering grass broke through the airy quiet of the day, in fact, it was so much louder than it ought to've been, that Whimpers collapsed to the ground, heart thundering away in his chest as Sneak strutted up towards him. It didn't help that the wiry boy had also hurled a large piece of ancient stone-work at his head!

"You _are_ mental!" Whimpers hollered, irrate as it was Sneak's turn now to laugh and chuckle and play the upright bloke. "Completely, utterly, and bloomin' mental!" And yet when Sneak held out a hand to help him up, Whimpers accepted it.

He didn't even offer up an argument when Sneak reached for the sword at his belt, took it from him, and started bashing out the lower half of the mirror, removing any sharp bits so they could get inside…

* * *

**I swear I'm missing one of the Light Spirits from TP… **

**I think I like writing for the Zora more than other race/group... They're just... interesting! What kind of body language do you have when you don't walk, can't stay still, and are always contending with currents? It's so cool to write their habits! Maybe it's because of the obsession I used to have with The Little Mermaid, and mer-people in general? **


	9. Sun Bleached Smears

**Okay, the part with Boss is what killed this chapter so HORRIBLY for three months. I long-handed a portion of it while on a 2 week school trip, and although I'm not too fond of what I got down via the longhand, it's better than letting this gather MORE dust and MORE hate.**

**Oh wells, here it is.**

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* * *

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**Chapter Eight**

Sun-Bleached Smears

He didn't know why he followed Sneak through the window; there wasn't much sense in it. Surprised when the short sword was handed back to him abruptly, he'd had to fumble with it a minute before it coughed and whittled its way back into the wooden sheathe at his hip. It was cumbersome to have there at his belt though, and even as he accepted Sneak's hand at being pulled through the opening, it got tangled and caught around his legs, causing him to fall flat on his face on the dusty, dirty ground inside.

A wonder no one else'd ever thought t' come through the window…

"Hoy! Where'd you go?" Picking himself up, it'd been a near thing to not smash his nose and wind up a bloody mess, but he could feel a small cut on his chin as he stood, dusted himself, and turned back around through the window. The dark grey frame made the half-light of noon outside seem tinted all bronze and orange, like looking across an stained old bit of parchment.

"You sit tight then out there." Whimpers said, not sure why, but it wouldn't make much sense for him to try pulling Sneak back through the window if he wanted to go takin' a look see. If Pegleg had an answer to him, it was mumbled too lowly to hear. The lame scribe was clearly unable to get inside with his leg all twisted, and sat dejectedly on the back of their little mule. Oh well.

"Blimey…" And that left his attention to be on the _other_ boy.

"Filthy in 'ere, i'nt it?" He commented dryly, looking around to where Sneak'd wandered on farther in already. Taking a moment to again brush off his palms, Whimpers'd heard stories of all sorts about these ruins here, rumour about why no one ever tore em' down or built em' back up again, but they was nothin' more than that; rumours.

Dust coated the old stone floor so thick it could've been carpet. All dusty brown and chalky grey, lengths of wood aged black marked where once there'd been long benches, pews set along both sides of the large hall they stood in now. Daylight filtered in from the broken tiling up above, but the ceiling itself was really so high that it was impossible to see the rafters entirely. It just faded to black, speckled with patches of light no matter how far back he tilted his head or strained his eyes.

The stone floor was sunken in places, patches of dirt pooling like little tadpole ponds between isles and along walkways. Sneak was already half-way down the isle, moving further inside and not really waiting. He could've sighed with the delay they were having, but instead felt a creeping, unfriendly sort of feeling. This place was old, old as the city if not more so; he didn't like it, being in a place where no one'd trodden for… well, forever.

Suddenly, he didn't want to be alone here.

"Hoy, Sneak! Wait up a tick!" He called, stirring up dust and leaving tracks and trails behind him as he shuffled after the wiry boy. He spared a glance at the high windows as he passed, coming up all the way to Sneak before finally noticing what was holding the other boy's eye so fast. It might've been something in the shadows ahead of them, but Whimpers' eyes found only the windows to either side…

The layering of dirt was not exclusive to the outside, but it was still less so by a great deal by the simple fact of there being no wind, no traffic, nor much rain- save for the most decrepit areas of course- on the inside. Despite anything else at least it was still lighter outside than in, so although any colours were long wrapped up in earthen cloaks, the images at least came through to them. It took a moment though, for the strange style of broken glass to form real pictures in his eyes though…

A boy, tunic down to his knees, sword held high in one hand with a shield up in front with the other. A horse with legs kicking fierce towards the sky. A sky of cloud and fields of rolling hill. Mountains peaked in the distance. In another, row upon row of soldiers, helmed and standing in ranks of even formation. A king with long robes passed by another window, a young girl walking at his side. The royal insignia filled the panes of any window left without a scene to describe, or a story to tell. Great falcons soaring over lions prowling. The black iron lines were amazing to behold, even with no colour or shading to give them real depth.

"By the King's-!!" Sneak's outburst snapped him from his reverie in the windows. Blinking wildly, he nearly tripped again over the hem of his too-long cloak and awkward sword, but kept his balance and his pride as he wheeled around.

"Where you goin'!?" Bolting forwards, the wiry boy had a head-start on him, but was running straight into the shadow of the hall. When he braked suddenly, Whimpers wasn't ready for it and ended up slamming right into him from behind. After several confusing, breathless moments of kicking up dust and muttering curses, they regained their feet and some semblance of composure.

"Mental and mad you are!" He flustered, fully expecting some biting remark back from the other boy, but whatever had caught Sneak's attention was too much to hold him to an argument now. Instead, even as Whimpers was still twisting his cloak around properly in front, Sneak was running his hands across the great, bulky shadow in front of them.

It wasn't really a shadow, and for a moment he didn't know how he'd managed to make that mistake; it was an alter. No small bit of stone either, but a great, hulking mass of white marble. It came up to mid-chest on him, though maybe a speck higher on Sneak given his size, and was wide and long enough for him to've climbed up and laid flat on his back with still a foot or so to spare in length.

"You know the legends, don't you?"

"Yeah, which 'uns?" Glancing at Sneak, the other boy was consumed by what he was seeing, eyes so wide that the green of them could hardly be seen.

"Th' Hero, th' gems; this's the place, ain' it?" He set one hand down on the marble stone, a wonder he didn't rise a cloud of dust with the motion. "This's where the jewels sat when he brought 'em, ain't it?" So Sneak had a soft spot for old children's tales did he? Well, it was about time he got something out've the smaller boy!

"Maybe… But where'd they go?" The War..?

The silence answered them, thick like the dust under Sneak's hand as he pulled away from it. He walked slowly around the detailed marble, kicking once or twice at the fetid remains of an ancient bench.

Monsters from the land and the water had stormed the city and taken the treasures, so legends said anyways. One of those ancient wars for ancient gods who hardly had names anymore. So this was their temple, eh? Wasn't much to look at anymore, maybe with a bit o' polish and a lot've elbow grease, but who had the money or time for something like that?

"Oi, where're you headed off to now?" He blinked and called after the other boy, Sneak'd wandered off around and behind the pedestal. A square arch was waiting in front of him, bare of any door and bearing the cracks and smashed carvings he only know realized ran across the floor as well. An ancient body of black stone and rock had come rolling through here, maybe the benches hadn't crumbled from age alone… Odd that the mantle had been left alone then.

"Goin' t' see the rest of it." Sneak answered plainly, glancing back over his cloaked shoulder, and giving him a look as if to say a challenge would be foolish on the matter. Again, Whimpers might've argued, might've sighed or shaken his head, but as Sneak turned and stepped into shadow, that creepy feeling hit him again.

Rest of it indeed. He followed close on the other boy's heels, and hadn't noticed the damp musk in the air until daylight filtered down again. They'd gone quite a ways back into the building then, from the outside it was a stretch to see where the roof was good and gone, but they'd reached it now.

There were no remains of wood out here, only long gathering patches of dirt and scrub grass where they'd once been. The windows were so caked in grime and shattered that even the iron lines had worn away, bent and twisted, reaching up like rusted fingers for the sky. The air was fresher though, clouds still hanging up overhead and obscuring any tints or windows into the clear air beyond. The funny feeling didn't leave though…

"Hoy, what's that?" Despite the damage to the walls on either side of them- a collapsed balcony rimmed the once mighty chamber, and there were fallen timbers half crumbled on the ground as he hurried to catch up. There was still one wall of the four still standing however, majestic and proud, but very, very strange.

There was a door cut into the stone. Or at least what –looked- like a door. He found Sneak trying to get his fingers into the cracks and yank, but to no avail. It was even more hopeless than the front door had been, no mighty snake's tail to grab hold of, or even a stub where the handle might _once_ have been.

"What's in there?" He asked, hustling over and watch as Sneak was red in the face trying to get inside, only to finally give up.

"No idea." The smaller boy looked at him sharply, "C'mon, help me find a stone're something." Whimpers just clenched his teeth instead, folding his arms hard over his chest.

"Nu-uh. Come off it, Sneak, we're wastin' daylight. Old ruins is just old ruins, nothin' important about em." Wasn't this the same boy who'd been hassling and hassling for near three days now?

"Not now, but back then…"

"Back _**when?**_" Exasperated now, Whimpers reached out and took hold of the back on Sneak's shirt, getting him right at the collar and dragging him away from the wall and the stupid cut stone. There were deep grooves along the ground as he literally forced the other boy to come along back with him, large chunks missing from the walls like they'd been broken off.

"I can walk, you twit! Leggo!"

"Then walk an let's git outta here!" He let go, but only to turn around and end up yelling at the other boy. "This place gives me the creeps, Sneak, let's just get back to Pegleg and get back on the road already!"

"Creeps? Everything gives you the creeps you nin-"

"Oh, enough! C'mon! What about the treasure then, eh? What about it? Jus' gonna forget it and go on with your dumb carvings and stones?" Sneak's mouth twisted into such a bitter, menacing line. But wonder of wonders he didn't bite back.

"Fine, let's go. We're slow enough with Pegleg anyways." _Finally…_

* * *

It was exciting, it really, really was. He'd never left the Castle before, been down perhaps to the first row of gates and never a step farther. He'd thought of the outside, heard a lot and was sure he knew enough to put something together with a bit of ingenuity and hard work, but he'd still never seen the real thing.

Or walked through it, for that matter. His majesty's train was impressive, dark crimson robe with fine wool and threaded gold decorating him, his dark hair was oiled and beard separated into two neat points. Three upper members of the nobility traveled just behind him, plus their small retainers on foot just as he was at their lord's sides. Four knights with armour gleaming road at the four corners of the procession. He walked along at the King's right, or at least on that side of his mighty black stallion; and on the left was another boy the same age as the Lord's young retainers, holding the royal pennant for all to see and make way.

They weren't much older than him to tell the truth, the servants, but that didn't mean they were able to converse at all. Difference in class; they were serving boys, higher than he might've been a fortnight ago, but suddenly far below him. It was sad though, they shared the same duties out here and yet were separated; it feltunfair.

The city streets emptied quickly of people, or at least they parted willingly. No one looked up at them as they passed, either ducking their heads down or moving too quickly to be called on for disrespect. No cheers or cries or smiles, but no angry looks or the smug disapproval of a testy city- or at least none that he could discern.

He and the other boys had all been walking from the palace down to the city, and there was no respite. His Majesty didn't so much as glance at him as they proceeded onward, but he couldn't help but look up every now and then, surprised for a moment when he saw the King slip a perfumed square of silk from one sleeve, and hold it up over his nose. It wasn't the smell- it was the dust. The horse's flanks and Boss's own shoes and trousers were quickly going a coppery brown from it all.

He wasn't going to complain, at least there was no harsh sunshine glaring down at them, only clouds screening the city. But the dust and the long walk left him thirsty soon enough… They passed the fountain in what he assumed was the City's main centre, but his Majesty didn't so much as pause to water the horses as he chose the wide western boulevard and directed the train down it in a stately manner.

He didn't know what they were looking for exactly, heavy canvas awnings beginning to crop up randomly from near windows and suspended on wires overhead. The King's dark eyes flickered up or around only once or twice, but his mouth remained set in a grim line. Boss was free to look around and take it all in for himself.

It was… filthy… Something about seeing the patches of dirt and grime across the roads, or the mildew creeping down the stuccoed surfaces of buildings made him sad inside. This was the Golden Land, wasn't the city supposed to be the shimmering gem in the centre? It was disheartening, but made him think of how difficult his Majesty's duties must've been if this was what the people had to live with. King's were good and noble and honourable- just like in the legends of the ancient Heroes.

Finally, they came to a stretch of road wider than most, a stable in clear sight with a sign swinging broadly over the red wood doors. The round child-like face of the franchise greeted them, a small decal of a horse running in the corner.

He'd been given no instructions, but the entire party paused and waited silently in the middle of the street. It wasn't until he chanced a look up at His Majesty and found dark eyes bearing down on him sternly that he leaped into action.

"Proprietor! In the name of your king, open this door!"

"Patience, boy!" Was the rough, disgruntled reply. "King won't ever come down this way..." The scuffling cry of dried boards warned him before the door abruptly swung in, no sign of it having been barred or locked against them, so that probably explained the lack of enthusiasm on the man's part. If that was what he could be called at least.

Craning his head up to see, the man stood in the rough leathers of a proper stable-hand. But his face was so grizzled and shrouded with a hefty main of black hair that it was almost impossible for Boss to get a good look at his face. A thick beard and dread-locked hair each tangled into one another, making it impossible to really tell where one ended and the other began. Take into account the sheer size of the man in front of him, and over all it was a very intimidating position.

At the very least, the man's eyes weren't hidden, towering in his doorway and looming down in, not really a threatening manner, but not very welcoming either... But, there was something a bit odd about how he kept himself, Boss couldn't shake the sense of it even as his words were backed up in his throat. The stable-worker wasn't even looking at him, eyes focused instead on the various pennants held by their party...

_'I can't see his ears...'_ Then it made sense.

_'Roundy..?'_

It was a shame he noticed so slowly, because no one else seemed too lag along like he did. There were laws in Hyrule, very strict laws passed for the betterment of all who lived under the banner of the Golden Land. Kings and Queens for generations had upheld and enforced those laws, and his king was no different.

"Where is your master?" He asked, shocked slightly by his own automation. This was his first time out of the castle, but his past night or so of constant drilling had already set in. His formalities slipped though, "His Majesty demands to view the current stocks. Fetch him." That class difference hit him again, frighteningly so as he wanted to add words to turn it into a request, but the eyes on his back scared the order out of him. Boss couldn't stop the slight waver in his voice though, he'd been a servant for a very long time to go ordering people around now.

Frozen. The poor man was struck stiff and dumb. It wasn't until Boss heard the sound of leather creaking after a moment of silence that the worker- a slave?- gave a sudden shiver. One of the Knights accompanying His Majesty had descended from his saddle, passing off the reins to his servant and coming up behind him. Boss could hear the tight sound of gloved fingers flexing, was the older man holding his sword..?

The Slave landed on his knees so hard and fast that for a moment Boss didn't know what to expect. A spurt of blood for insubordination? A fainting spell from fear? Accolon had worked with Slaves, he knew how easy it was for them to be replaced, and forgotten soon after. Sold into the work or dragged from debt, there were many horrible ways of ending up on the bottom, but once you were there it didn't matter what you did. Boss was lucky to've been born free.

"What is he saying, boy?" The knight's voice sent a shiver running up his spine, unpleasantly cool and directing. "Where is his master?" Boss had to calm his racing heart before he could piece together what the comments meant, before he could hear the soft, fearful droning coming from the man in front of him.

"The winter, died in the winter, passed away with fever he did. Widow left, dunno where, won't come back, sold her boy…" It was hard to hear, easy to miss words, but he got it, snatched up the information as Boss- Accolon, spun right round on his heel. He was almost impressed with himself for landing the bow perfectly, but his stuttered speech took away from the performance.

"He says his master died of fever this winter, Sir. The widow abandoned the establishment and left with her son." He couldn't say the boy'd been sold. That wouldn't make any sense: why abandon a good business and sell your child into oblivion? Either the woman had been deranged or the man now crumpled behind him was a liar. Boss didn't want to think of what the latter could mean for them today…

"Then he is ignorant of the law?" Boss couldn't bring his eyes up to see the Lord's face as he spoke, only daring to see the way his lips moved, a cruel twist to his lips as the man seemed to enjoy sucking on his own teeth when not speaking.

"N-no, Sir." Another string of babbling words was thumbing through the din of the street. There wasn't a good deal of noise to overcome, but it helped to highlight how low down such a large man could bring his voice. "They've been searching for a replacement all winter; there was too much confusion when the old master died. He left it to his wife, but she threw it away."

"Such is the way of women." There was… very little to keep Boss's knees from crumpling under him the way the slave-man's already had. When you worked in the company of slaves, you're rarely treated better until you can distinguish yourself with the truth of your birth. Accolon hadn't forgotten his mis-steps and mistakes and all the other blunders he'd already made since taking on his services to the King, hearing the man speak- even in jest- just didn't do his nerves any good. He was going to end up like poor Pegleg soon…

Accolon found himself in a very dramatic predicament as he heard the leather seize up and give way as the King swung one leg down off his horse. The thick velvet robes didn't hinder him in the slightest as he dismounted. But it was _Accolon's_ duty to hold the reins of the horse, lead it back a few paces until he was in need of it again. But he couldn't just leave where he was standing, hands clasped tightly behind his back, forming a miniature wall of sorts between the Slave and the Knight. He could only hope he made the correct choice in standing his ground...

"Such is the way of women… wouldn't you agree, Sir Griflet?" The King repeated, drawing the Knight's attention soundly away from Boss. The Squire watched as the man placed one gauntleted hand on the pommel of his sword, bowing near-parallel with the ground before snapping right back up again.

"Indeed, Majesty. If I may say, a blatant trait of their sex: a lack of foresight and logic. There's hardly a scrap of business aptitude in their simple minds." Boss didn't have any way to rebuke the statement, or an ounce of the power or position to open his mouth in protest, but he didn't really have anything at odds with what the man said. Aside from a few very rare exceptions- his mother, Mistress Thuma for one- he was right on the mark… But His Majesty didn't seem to think so, and that was why Accolon was suddenly desperate for something to say, even if he wasn't allowed to speak.

"Might I remind you, Sir Griflet that I have no son, and that the Monarch has been supported by any number of strong, logical women." Accolon wanted to drop down on his knees perhaps only half as badly as the Knight himself, or better yet, Griflet's Squire, who'd suddenly gone a terrible white colour against the black leg of his master's stallion.

"It is not a trait of the sex, petty Lord, but rather one of _breeding_." Gliding forwards across the dirty cobbles, Boss took one sweeping step to the side to make sure he didn't get in His Majesty's way. The Slave was as white as Griflet's squire, but it was difficult to see under the dreadlocked mess of his hair.

"Boy." Boss moved, rising from the bow that had been aching his back and shoulders, and turning sharply on his heel as he'd been shown that morning to do. He dropping his head again towards the King again, who had moved now to stand directly in front of the trembling slave. The hiss of steel brought his face up, though he remained bent in his bow for a moment longer before straightening.

Boss had seen swords before. He'd spied wooden ones being tossed about and fought with in the palace courtyards while fetching herbs or leading animals to the slaughterhouses. He'd once seen a young knight- not yet familiar with his new position- come wandering down into the Servant's wing in a daze, the sheathed weapon dangling from his side.

The first time Accolon had ever touched a sword had been that morning though. He'd been instructed by one of the older pages- a rank Accolon had skipped due to his age- as to how to properly drag the stone across the tempered edge with a beaten and buffeted blade belonging to the castle's armoury. They weren't nearly as heavy to hold as he would've thought, certainly less than a big brutish club or a heavy metal shield. In fact, when he'd had the honour of holding up the majestically worked length of the King's sword that morning before riding out, it hadn't been much more weight in his hands than a block of wood, only spread along the length in a way which fooled the mind into thinking it was lighter still.

The King's sword was edged in silver, and fluted down the blade's spine with a long, even groove. The pommel shone with a deep ruby on the very end with what looked like either caramel enamelling or smoothly oiled hardwood all around. It was a beautiful work of art, but when Accolon found his clammy hand pressed around the firmly bound hilt, the blade lost its majestic air and beauty. It was a weapon. And with the King's hand like rock encompassing his own, Accolon was not in control of it.

His left hand shook slightly as he tightened his hold on the sword hilt, the King holding firmly with his right. Watching the silver edge make a smooth path through the air, he thought he heard the King say something; a simple comment of some trivial nature.

The Slave was sweating heavily, Boss could see it as the blade slowly parted the black dregs around his head. It was both a delicate and very deliberate gesture, exposing the rounded lobe- the clear sign of lower breeding with lowest blood. Accolon's hands were freezing, but his chest was afire and head light enough to float away on the stale breeze.

"He defied the Law of your King, ignored the Order of your Realm, _and defiled the Sanctity of our Blood_..." All he could hear was the King's melodious voice, and with a sudden lurch; saw only dribbling crimson.

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**I was on the fence about killing Lachlan for a long time, but the wretched slowness of this chapter prompted me to just off the guy 'cause I was bored. This of course proves that he wasn't central to the plot since I don't like killing off important people in the very beginning D;**

**Wait, chapter eight and this's still the beginning? OH NOSE.**


	10. Sleeping Stones

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* * *

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**Time and Again**

Sleeping Stones

A half dozen turnips, three potatoes, strip of dried meet, and pat of hard cheese. That was the menu Sneak had assembled for them in the city after they'd left the castle behind. And goodly-squat it did them after their third day away from the grimy, grubby, noisy city.

The first night wasn't so bad, there'd been too much to watch for. Beyond the city's half-crumbled walls stood- or rather, _leaned_- another half-mile or more of shanty houses and rag-molting shacks. Sneak'd felt dwarfed in the city, never mind their detour through the ruins, but even he was beginning to feel mighty tall by the time the muddied ground was the only cover for the moth-eaten peasant-folk. And the rank stench of them was just- ugh!

"_Your people._" He'd remarked sharply towards Pegleg, having spotted the greater number of the slum-folk to be little more than a swarm of dumb-bred. The lame boy hadn't done much more than simper and go red-eyed at the sight of them at that point, but the sentiments had faded as the dust and stink started getting to the lot of them. They were hacking, coughing and sneezing by the time they were over the first hills, and browned grass scrubbed against the soles of their socked feet.

Socked feet. Bad idea. All of them were so outrageously sore by the time the sun hadn't even touched the western horizon that they dropped down on the side of the road- remembering only by chance to tie the mule up to a nearby wooden post- and fell dead asleep. A proper pair of boots or shoes should never have been over-looked, and Sneak's feet made sure to remind him of that oversight every _bleeding_ time he put his _bloody_ foot down on the _burning _ground.

They broke from the main road on their second day away from the city. He knew that they were heading north, and that eventually they'd be striking west across the territory of the northern races. So, to that effect they followed against the flow of the Hylia River- the main waterway across the kingdom which led south down toward the massive lake of the same name. The murky grey was silent and forbidding; snaking across the dusty plains alongside a road so old the wagon-ridges had vanished from seasons of rain and wind.

But it was that second night outside of the city which provided the greatest shocker of their journey.

"_You can't start a bloomin' fire!?_" Useless. Completely and utterly useless! Any mental fool could get a fire back from embers, but Sneak couldn't bloody well do it from grass and sticks!

They had to make do without a fire, which, bringing back to an earlier point, left turnips and potatoes effectively out of the running for something to eat after a painful and agonizing day of trekking along the uneven and rock-riddled road. They had to settle for chewing the dried meat- that tasted more like stringy leather- and trying to breath around the fist-sized lump of cheese that broke apart like bits of salt on their tongues. At least the river water was clean, and they were able to both flood their bellies with the icy cold and sooth their blistering feet in the current. The mule was also given a good brushing down, something the others seemed surprised with Sneak for volunteering to do. But he wasn't about to tell them he'd stolen a handful of oats from the creature's feed bag while at it.

No one travelled to or from Zora and Goron joint-territory anymore, and after another four days of travel the trend was getting on Sneak's nerves. They started losing the road, several times over an hour in the worst places, going a long stretch before being lost again. By the end they were following the river alone, up to their noses in ruddy fields of wild grass, or down to their knees in mud and swamp. The weather was quick to heat up on the road though. And as miserable as it could be to shuffle along under the harsh white rays, at least it meant they didn't freeze at night without the fire.

Even three peasant boys could get away without a bit of woodcraft on the beaten road. But when they left those assured paths behind there was a danger they hadn't realized until they were plenty of days to the north. In his defence, Sneak had put up a mighty fuss about sleeping on the edge of unbroken pasture, but the two ninnies he'd dragged along were intent on not continuing on toward the woods that were still just a black line along in the distance. There'd been nothing for it, but he let the rotten mule settle itself without a goodly brushing as he wrapped his too-long cloak around himself and dropped down on the tangled grasses. Sneak didn't want to sleep out in the open tonight, something bad was going to happen; he just knew it. But would those two listen? Of course not...

When the bad thing happened, it happened quietly. At first he thought he was just grinding his teeth too loudly, but then Sneak realized he'd been clenching them, not grinding. The other two were asleep, or he assumed so, but the sound was still there.

It was black as pitch until a cloud blew over, the moon shedding enough light for him to suddenly see. Pushing himself to sit up right, the sound stopped, and there was only the hushed whisper of the tall grass waving lazily over his head. He suddenly didn't like being unable to see around him- he felt like a castle mouse that could hear the fire being lit just outside its hole... Or better yet, the mangy cat padding about over-head.

There- he could hear it again! Something low, grinding, like stones moving roughly over one another, soil splitting... But he couldn't see anything, only the silvery flutes of the grass. But he could hear-_!!_

"_Get up!_" Sneak shouted, his voice hitching in his throat as he clawed at the grass and tumbled forward. "Get up, both of you- _wake up!_" He couldn't even_ see_ them in the grass. Instead, he felt something big and hairy buck up under his hands as the mule gave a shriek.

"Wut... wut's goin' on.._!?_" Pegleg, that was who that was, the lame boy had taken to sleeping on or at least near the creature that carried him throughout the day. Sneak whipped aside the curtain of grass between the two of them watching the scribe's eyes stare towards him blindly through the glare of his specs. Why was the night suddenly so quiet?

"N-Nightmare..?" Why that stupid rotten glass-eyed lame-legged slurring little-! He wasn't _having a night-!_

_heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..._ Th-There it was again!

"B-B-_Boss!!_"

"Pegleg!"

"Sneak?!"

"_Whimpers!?_"

_**"AAAAHHHHH!!" **_The ground _bloody damn well moved!!_

_It split open right between the three of them!_ Sneak was stunned on one knee, his arm frozen against the grass as Pegleg fell back with a shriek, tangling himself in the reins as the mule gave an echoing scream and began floundering around trying to get up. The dopey animal's eyes were a panicked white, and Sneak found himself only a breath behind boy and beast.

It didn't just move, that bare patch in the middle of their grassy camp where a fire ought to've been, it jumped and split open! A rattling breath and the stink of rotting fur and bone blew out through the grass, causing Sneak's stomach to fall right through. He didn't know what colour they were, the two points of light that formed as the stink grew stronger and curled horns appeared. But it was terrifying as shoulders hunched and wrenched themselves from the ground, those horns hanging limply from the sides of a blackened, motley head.

Teeth, hooves, horns- knife,_ knife,_ _knife!_ Sneak's heart was beating so hard and fast in his chest he thought it'd burst! He felt frozen in place as he reached up and started clawing at his own tunic and vest. Tangled in his own cloak, his fingers closed coldly around the over-worn hilt and Sneak pulled the short blade up right next to his ear like he'd stab the thing if it came any closer. He'd known something bad was gonna happen! He'd just _known!_

"Pegleg! Get on the Royal-Damned thing! _Now!_" He shrieked, still able to hear the caterwauling of the mule as the lame boy was falling over himself still in the corner of Sneak's eye. The beast in front was tossing its head around, clods of earth speckling off as its eyes were spinning in their glowing sockets. He didn't want to know if it was the grinding of the earth that'd spat the hellion out he could still hear, or just the clopping of the wet and rotting bones under its half-eaten hide.

Th-there! He could lunge and drive it right into the creature's glowing eye! He could if he- if he…! C-Could- he couldn't move!

His hands went numb and there was a dull thunk, the knife striking the ground, uselessly falling from his grasp. What wits he had screamed at him, but Sneak was clawing back, floundering through the grass in too much of a panic to care. He was gonna die! _He was gonna die!_

_"HIIYAAAAAA!!"_ He only just caught the flash of moonlight off the blade before Whimpers vanished again behind the lumbering undead. The creature gave a wild convulse though and Sneak gave another scream of his own as he saw a sword blade stuck into the beast's hind-quarters. There was no time to think, Whimpers' hand around the hilt as he stepped right on the undead as it floundered in the broken earth, jumping and taking the blade with him again. Sneak felt a hand close tightly o his arm and the next moment he was scrambling and kicking trying to get to his feet as the other boy started dragging him.

It didn't work that way for very long though, once Sneak was out of the sight of those hellish eyes, he was certainly well enough to turn and get his legs back in working order. The hand on his arm let him go, letting him run properly without being turned around awkwardly, and after that it was just wind and tall grass.

_Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..._ N-No it wasn't!

There was more rumbling and wet, sloppy grunts around them as they ran, but Sneak didn't stop to look for those glowing yellow eyes. When his sight darted over the husks of the grasses he wasn't searching out the lopsided horns- he was looking for the trees.

Right, left, right, left, twisting, turning, and running all the while. Sneak couldn't even feel his feet striking the loamy earth, only praying he didn't suddenly find himself ankle-deep in mud as the grass whipped past his face, slicing at his hands. There was too much noise, but at the same time not enough. The night was silent but the earth was _alive._ He was running as fast as his legs would carry him, but Sneak still felt _so slow_…

"This way!" It was his turn to grab at the other boy this time, tearing Whimpers nearly off his feet as Sneak took his arm from behind and yanked him sharply to their left again. It was so hard to see, but they were running further into the field- far from the river and in the wrong direction from the woods! He knew it, and whether or not Whimpers agreed with him wasn't to be questioned; they ran. And a few more wind-swept moments after there was the shriek of a very alive mule, more screams and shouts and blubbering from Pegleg, and then it ended.

It was so stupid, so suddenly over and done with. The whispering silver of the grass turned into the nettled underbrush of the forest, and then the rumbles stopped, the moaning faded. Sneak kept going, the unfamiliar scent of pine and soil ramming up his nose as his socked feet abruptly tangled and tripped over twisted roots and hidden stones. He found himself on his belly bent over a large humped stump before his legs stopped moving, bile flaring up his throat from terror and the force of collapsing his stomach against the obstacle. Sneak didn't want to know what there was to chuck-up, but as he slid back and hit the forest floor, and stared up through the branches, he thought he was going to die.

He heard someone breathing out of sync with him; Whimpers. And, ironically enough, a soft whimpering and crying- that was Pegleg. He didn't want to listen for anything louder than that, didn't have the strength to scrub at his mouth or eyes and hide the traces of his fear. And as he looked up at the starless sky- a bit of blue only a shade lighter than the tree branches scratched across it- he almost wondered if moulding wood and dusty stones weren't better...

* * *

Whimpers' first impression was the feel of his mum's warm fingers gently grazing the side of his face... But there was no smell of baking cakes this time, or familiar sounds of his dad's workshop, or the horses whinnying under Lachlan's care. Instead, it was the alien trill of some sort of bird high overhead, and the strong smell of uncut, unseasoned, fresh and living wood. So, not wood at all- trees.

Sitting up groggily, Whimpers couldn't remember what'd happened, only how his arm was aching terribly. His hand felt twisted out've place, like he'd strained the muscles of his wrist and thumb grabbing or yanking on something. And his shoulder was just-! ...Ugh.

"Where're we?" He slurred groggily, looking around beady-eyed in the sunshine as everything was eerie-quiet. The distant drone of insects, another trill high overhead from the birds, but aside from that, nothing. The sun was brilliant as it scattered down from the budding branches overhead, but there was nothing really alive and fleshed out yet, too soon into the new spring for anything more than the warming sunshine and lack of rain.

His back was hurting too from the stones that'd rammed into his spine in the night. His cloak was all knotted around him, and he didn't feel rested at all after the night spent... wait, they hadn't settled in the woods too-

"'bought time you got up." Looking around as he wasn't in the mood to go jumping up at Sneak's voice, Whimpers stifled a yawn as the smaller boy seemed to materialize from out under a nearby bush. He had that furious red flush across his face again, something Whimpers was getting used to ignoring since it wasn't hard to come by when around the wry ringleader. Despite never having gotten to know him, Whimpers wouldn't have minded having Boss at the head of their ram-shackle party instead of Sneak...

"What're you so cheerful for?" Whimpers asked, reminding himself that despite Sneak's temper, he normally didn't wake up so wretchedly. The other boy seemed to prefer to have something set him off instead.

"Oh, like _you don't know!_" And with that, their conversation was over. Whimpers watched him cross the small glade- wait, it wasn't a glade. Just some gap between trees- hadn't they stopped somewhere else? Either way, he didn't know where Pegleg was until he noted the other boy reach down and give a rude shake on a sleeping, needle-coated lump he'd thought was just another tree. The scribe gave a weak cry, sounding almost fearful for a moment before rolling over, his light hair was tousled and looked greasy even from a good set of paces away. Whimpers couldn't help but wonder why Sneak and himself just seemed to get more dusty and dirty while the lowblood just greased up... Ick...

"S-Sneak! _Sneak!_" Despite the thin black line that became of Sneak's mouth, there was no outraged hollering or fist-throwing from the scrappy youth as Pegleg seemed to be fighting with himself to keep back tears. What was _wrong _with that one?

"Where's the river?" He asked sleepily, shaking his head out of the foggy stupor of half-sleep. He couldn't smell the fresh water nearby, so despite the pangs in his stomach asking for something more than dried meat and hard cheese- of which they were running out- that was more important to him. The river ran south, they were following it north. That didn't work without a river.

"W-What?" Whimpers said, feeling defencive as the other two just looked at him like he'd said something completely out've the blue and insane. What? He'd asked a legitimate question, bugger off to the both of them then... This treasure hunt was turning into a wild-goose chase, they should've already found something by now, shouldn't they?

The mule was missing, but not for very long as Whimpers was left sitting with Pegleg for a few minutes as Sneak ran off to catch the blasted thing- it came within sight of them up a ridge and Sneak seemed to have the most energy for bringing it back. The dopey animal came peacefully enough at least, but when Whimpers spotted Sneak _chewing on something_...

The feed bag was nearly empty by the time they were done going through the oats and grain that'd been parcelled up for it. They let the beast just chomp on some grasses and bushes.

"Those berries might be good." Whimpers mentioned, looking over the bush with its few thorns. The pack creature'd already chomped on the better part of the bush, but there were several clusters of red and blue berries left. Looking over his shoulder at Sneak, the other boy was picking any dropped oats off the ground and stuffing them in his mouth before looking over. Licking off his fingers as he stood, Whimpers watched the other boy nonchalantly pat at his chest for his knife- probably to hack off a branch.

Instead of going through with that though, Sneak froze; his hand over his right breast. An oddly confused look overcame his features, and for a few moments Whimpers was amused watching Sneak pat himself down several times, spinning in circles even and nearly tripping over his own cloak before his face flushed in anger and he looked out through the trees.

"You _lost it?_" Sneak without his knife? Too funny!

"SHUT UP!" Red and grubby faced, hands fisted at his sides, Sneak's outburst cut off any other retorts from Whimpers. It actually wasn't a good thing to laugh about; without Sneak's little blade they were down to just one- the heavy sword strapped across his back... he'd probably have to start taking better care of it then, Lachlan'd given him a whet stone to sharpen the blade on, and it was currently tucked into a small pouch at his belt with an oiled cloth for much the same purpose.

Well, as Sneak began stomping off in a random direction, Whimpers sighed and looked around at Pegleg. Surprisingly, the Scribe was up on the mule's back without any help from him, his walking stick oddly missing from in front of him on the saddle- when'd they started being so forgetful? He couldn't see either the blade or the old table leg on the ground, but Sneak was already getting too far ahead: no time to search and make a proper sweep for it.

That was their morning, and set the tone for the rest of that day until they reached the river again. They started off slow in the morning, but always tended to do that, and were out've the woods with pockets full've nuts and s'more berries the mule tried to nibble by noon. Reasonably full then, Whimpers noticed how the mountains visible from the city walls had jumped towards them since they'd set out. It was an eerie feel, the sensation of crossing the Golden Land all on their own. It kinda made him think of how small their kingdom must really have been... Not good thoughts at all. Everyone knew that beyond Hyrule's boarders there was nothing but marauders and bandits, frightening monsters and alien societies too far removed from their own to be trusted...

It wasn't fun, the idea of leaving their nation behind, it wasn't fun at all. From a distance, from Lachlan and his father's stable, it'd been... magical? It'd been an adventure to riches and stuff. None of this sleeping on stones and eating dirty nuts and horse feed. They were supposed to be on a noble, whirl-wind quest to find precious gems and ride back to town as kings. Instead, he was stuck with bleeding feet tripping over roots and boulders. He was sleeping next to a dirty-blooded wretch with a lame leg. As nice as Pegleg might've been in the castle, he was miserable travelling company; at least he got to _ride_ instead of walk... And what was more; they still had a full pack of food. But could they eat it? No.

Lachlan'd given him a pot to stew the meat and potatoes in, or at least boil them and the turnips. But they couldn't light a fire- he could do it in a fire pit alright, with bits of wood shavings and warm embers and scraps of cloth his mum didn't want anymore. Sneak was the same in that regard- he could kindle a dying flame, had complained with Pegleg endlessly already about how starting a fire with cold hunks of wood wasn't the same as leaning over dry stacks of twigs with a candle, or taking a shovel full of red embers from another oven and tossing them on to make a blaze. But to just build one from scratch was entirely different- they couldn't even get smoke!

Still, no matter how disenchanted Whimpers was beginning to feel, those mountains were steadily creeping closer and closer to them. It even got to the point where he thought he could look up in mid day and see a haze of red in the distance. There were legends about the red land north of Hyrule, like how the monstrous creatures who lived there ate boulders, and found Hylian flesh to be a delicacy... Whimpers really didn't think this was a good idea anymore- had he ever been fully for it though?

The further they travelled, the less they began to see the large copses of trees and signs of there ever having been a road. Boulders started appearing though, and for one reason or another that was what they took to sleeping on at night. The other two just seemed completely against any notion of sleeping on the open ground, but frankly since the ground was becoming pebbled and cracked, he didn't care enough to argue after the first night. Boulder was hard for obvious reasons, but free of random stones and sticks and twigs that could bite into him when he rolled over. Those boulders became so frequent in fact that by the end of it that was how they were navigating- they began losing the river frequently, a real worrying sign as it would dip under gullies and be too dangerous to follow the stone banks of. The roads were all long gone now adays, but the stones were still there. They'd been blasted, rolled, or even carved onto as road markers, something that shocked Whimpers as he rolled over onto a face one morning when Sneak was going on about not wanting to eat scrub grass again.

Pegleg had called the onion-shape a goron head. Not a literal head of a goron, just an outline of one on the rock, so old and worn away that nothing was there anymore save the slight indent of two eyes and the pointed head. It unnerved him even more than the mountains they were cresting the foothills of, and sometimes at sunset Whimpers fancied he could see the towers of the castle... But that was just fancy- the broken spires of the royal city had faded from sight only two days from the walls...

Every time they lost the river it brought a lot of skittish feelings for all three of them, and even the mule seemed bothered by it- but there was something even more troubling even when the river was right there next to them. It was cold.

No, not the air, the weather. They noticed it slowly at first, how they'd wake up wrapped tightly in their cloaks instead of splayed across their backs. The nights were always warm during early spring in the city and castle, but they'd been on an incline for days and the nights were... nippy... downright chilling in fact. And it was a big, big, big problem. Pegleg's complaining of his sore leg and aching back became more audible, and as much as Whimpers wanted to snap at him to get off the mule and walk then, without his stick that just wasn't going to happen. Sneak mourned the loss of his knife for days, but it was that stupid hunk of wood that Whimpers wanted back...

The river wasn't the same murky grey anymore either, instead Whimpers could look down and see straight to the stony bottom. It grew slimmer as they travelled along it too, faster in places, roaring like thunder, or slow, almost trickling despite the winter thaw that made it flood several times as they moved. They came across splits that had to be crossed, tributaries funnelling down into the main flow. They always stuck to the largest one though, or at least when they lost it that was always what they came back to. Whichever one was going more northerly. But the thing about the river went back to how clear it was. It was frustrating for him to be taunted several times by the water, and how he could often see the silver scales of fish flash by.

That was just infuriating. They could catch as much fish as they wanted or knew how- how hard could it be?- but unless one of them turned out to be a cat, it wouldn't do them any good to have raw, scaly meat in their pack. They'd run out've both meat and cheese days ago, about the time they'd finally eaten the raw turnips and potatoes, but Whimpers was sure he'd never had to tighten his belt so much before. Sneak didn't lose any weight though, or act any differently, but the constant hunger pains weren't something Whimpers'd ever grown up with, or gotten used to even for his brief stay in the castle kitchens... this was slow murder.

They could always hear the water before they saw it again, always. But this time it was different. They'd been going up hill without the guiding flow for nearly two days, and their skins were running on empty again. Lacking food was bad enough, but no water would truly be the death of them.

They ran out've road, and had somehow scaled the side of a massive waterfall without knowing it. They came up the stone and gravel path to see the river gush out've a massive stone wall, flowing only a few scarce feet before plummeting over a high edge. It made the current fast and dangerous since it was such a narrow canal.

And he used the word canal because despite the origins of the water's path, the opening was not completely natural. Strange swirls of blue and violet were all around the mouth of the cave, carved into the stone and painted vividly and with a fluid nature to them that just staring at them for too long made Whimpers feel dizzy. Aside from the paintings there was also clear masonry; the lip of the cave edged in tiled stones, and there was even a fair path along one side of the rapid flow for foot-traffic. It was old though, with lichen growing in the cracks, but it was there none-the-less, and in much worse condition than the painting or tiles... It didn't bode well...

"Well..." Sneak said after the three'd taken several minutes to stand and stare. What now? They were a bloody sight: feet in rags that'd bled more than once, a cripple with a thinning, shaky-legged mule under his weight. No woodcraft, hardly any money, food they couldn't cook, no maps or compasses or anything else to tell where they were exactly. The only thing Whimpers could really get his mind to focus on was the question; when exactly had they crossed from one land to the other? He couldn't tell, didn't know where the change could've been. When they started sleeping on boulders instead've under trees? After their rations had turned to scrub grass and roots instead of cheese and meat? This was such a bad idea... bad idea... _bad idea...!_

"Well, c'mon! Git' a move on!" Sneak's voice became pushy again, the smaller boy actually pressing against Whimpers' shoulders to make him stumble forwards. For a moment he wasn't sure whether he was going to risk putting his sore and aching feet into the fast-flowing current, or take the decrepit path that was their only option aside from back-tracking. Hidden treasures always laid at the end of creepy paths, didn't they? They did in all the stories his dad had told him... But what about the monsters? Those always came just before the treasure- he didn't want to go in!

"Fine then." There was a... tug, a pull, and then the sound of hissing metal as Whimpers fought the weight on his back that threatened to tip him over onto his back. The next moment the weak sunlight overhead was shining off the blade of his sword, and Whimpers swore bitterly as the other boy slung it over his shoulder and-

"Are you mental!? Give that back!" He looked bloody stupid carrying that thing, the sword was small, Lachlan'd told him so, but Sneak was somehow small enough to make the weapon look much too big for him. Honestly! Sneak turned right around as he was called, needing both hands to get the flat of the blade off his shoulder as he stuck it down into the gravel ground. Whimpers grit his teeth- the ground was hard, and he'd been lax about maintaining it with that stone and cloth still...

"Then use it. Git. A. Move. On." Forget clenching, Whimpers was grinding his teeth as he took the blade up again, one-handed like it was supposed to be as Sneak ignored him and hollered back at Pegleg.

"Get a move on you whiny chit! You bloody-well cry more than Whimpers does, I oughta call you that instead then, shouldn' I?"

"Leave off, Sneak." He said tightly, hearing the wheezing breaths of the scribe as the mule began to plod forwards again. Honestly, what was _he_ panting for? They were the ones walking.

Whimpers didn't want to go in there, he didn't want to keep going on this stupid treasure hunt, didn't want to battle horrible monsters or take care of the sword or sleep on rock or eat dirt or anymore of this! He didn't want to go! ...But the mule was already plodding forwards, and Sneak was capping their refilled skins in the swift flow, and he was holding their only weapon, and he had to walk...

Arthur wanted to go home...

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**Coldplay's new CD playing for about 9 hours last night really made this happen, yay!**

**Yay for speedy update, and I hope to get a foothold on Chapter Ten before I fly. Read and review, please and thank you!**


	11. Scheduled Appearances

**Okay, after much back-reading and note-revisions, I have FINALLY fixed the seasons errors which kept cropping up in this story. Officially all of Hyrule has just finished dealing with a long and harsh WINTER. They are currently progressing through spring with high hopes towards the SUMMER months. The errors were as frustrating for you, the reader, as they were for me, the writer. All taken care of now, hopefully.**

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**Chapter Ten**

Scheduled Appearances

Accolon came to her four times in a steady number of days, something which surprised her, but by the third he began to actually speak to her again. He was such a silly boy sometimes, but she'd nearly lost her temper the first day when she'd heard the grating breath of the hidden passage opening up, and he just stumbled into the room and put his head down on her lap where she'd been reading.

He hadn't spoken to her, no _'Thank you's_ or _'I love you's_ or _'Sweet Princess's_, or anything else of the sort that she'd wanted to hear from him after his squirehood had been granted. No, instead he just stumbled in, weary and smelling bad from a day down in the city with her father, and then a run through the murky darkness to reach her chambers. He hadn't looked any worse serving her father earlier that same night, but still, she had expected better company from him.

The next morning when he arrived to find her abed was much, much more enjoyable though. Plenty of soft kisses and even a few smiles. She'd made him model his brand new tunic for her as well, though he hadn't liked that very much and his pouting had made her laugh. He'd worn the pilled length of red with the same short and stocky sleeves for his first few days as Royal Squire, but the proper long one had finally been stitched together and given to him that morning. It looked much better on him.

He'd told her- once he finally began to speak again and lost that haunted look in his eyes- that he'd never worn tunics of any sort in the kitchens, and only the short-tight sleeved ones she knew of as a server. Somehow though he seemed to have gotten into his head that the practicality of such short, mediocre coverage was more appropriate for him, and Elda was intent on correcting this flaw in his behaviour.

"But look at all of these nice stitches!" She exclaimed for the hundredth time, the two of them on her low couch with him reclined and her resting snuggly over his chest, his arms draped around her just the way she liked. It was even better now of course, because the wide, elegant flow of his tunic was comforting across the milky yellow of her shift. He'd arrived much too early for her to be properly dressed by her maids yet, he seemed to prefer waking up especially early to visit her instead of keeping them both awake late at night. "Besides, this style suits you. Very sleek and elegant as a proper Royal Squire." Dropping the length of pleasantly soft wool down again over his wrist, it was edged in thread of gold and caught pleasantly on the mixture of candle and daylight.

"I feel like a triangle in this terrible thing though!" He laughed with her, but Elda wasn't about to let him try and shuck the garment, as he seemed wont to do for reasons other than her whenever out of her father's service. "I'm so clumsy, and I have to watch exactly where and how I set my hands!"

"Of course you do; and so does Father, and Sir Griflet, and all the other noble men of the country." Sitting up a bit, she was snuggly in his lap and noticed the way his sleeves- widening from shoulders to wrists, and split from the elbow down to expose the undershirt of black and red cuff. She approved and set her hands against his roan-covered chest. "You're made of better stock than those dirty little mongrels down in the Servant's wing, so you're finally able to dress the part, and someday soon..." She leaned down against him, and smiled to see how a bit of pink flushed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears before his hands moved to hold her close and their lips touched. Once, twice, soft and tender just the way she always wanted. Not even her favourite maids could make her feel as warm and loved as he could.

"Someday, someday..." He murmured against her lips, his hands holding just right against her as she pulled back just enough to see his face again, chest to chest and able to see into his eyes clearly.

"But sooner than someday, I have sword practice..." She blinked at him, and without much effort Elda affirmed that she would also have to teach him how to make better pillow-talk by the time he was knighted.

"You've always had such a peculiar sense of time, Accolon." Looking around her familiar rose and marble chamber, the Princess was never really able to tell the difference between the rays at dawn or mid-day. But Accolon could, and better than any of the Servant filth he'd lived around for so long. It was just something which affirmed how he was a cut above the rest of the poor. She smiled at the thought, and felt his eyes grow move and sweep across her face like a warm sunbeam, closing her eyes just a bit as he pulled her up to kiss again.

"And you've always had lovely taste in jewelry." He said sweetly, his eyes suddenly dipping down where she hadn't expected, though the neckline of her gown was considerably lower than her normal outfits. However, so early his eyes weren't slipping down too deeply past the curtain of silk and lace, only onto the glassy green stone resting just above the hollow of her breasts. He hooked his finger under the chain she'd worn to bed; she wondered how detailed a memory he had of her treasures, as this one was certainly different. It had a peculiar shine and glow to it, different from her emeralds and topaz rings.

"My father gave it to me, see how large it is? He might have sold the Eastern Colony for such a grand piece." And it was grand indeed, for even with Accolon's finger curled behind the floral silver setting, it was still a massive stone. "Father loves to tinker, have you seen his trove of stones and metals in his chambers, Accolon?" He nodded to her, and she was content until he began to move and she had to sit back off of him, one arm folded against the arm of the couch to keep from being uncomfortable. He stood quickly and was fiddling with the corded collar of his tunic again as he spoke more to the wall than directly to her- he was the only one who could get away with that too.

"Thank you for seeing me so early again, Elda. I felt bad for waking you..." Aww, so that was why he was turned, he was worried for her. Smiling tenderly, the Princess merely tucked her feet up under herself as she reclined back properly against the arm of her couch. Accolon was running his fingers through his clean blond hair as she replied to him.

"It was nothing, and I look forward to seeing you tonight." She lowered her voice to a gentle purr, and at the shocked look he sent over his shoulder she gave a quick bark of laughter and hugged her knees up to her lacy chest.

"At dinner, silly! Where I see you every night waiting on my father's arm." His ears were lightly grazed with red along the tips, and even as Accolon joined her in a soft chuckle there was still a bit of flush to his cheeks. It was innocent in a way only he could pull off without appearing completely naive or stupid.

"Yes, of course, Princess." He gave her a smile, and it wasn't as sheepish as the laugh, instead there was a hint of that sincerity, and Elda felt like hugging one of her pillows close as he looked at her so warmly.

But then he really did have to go, and she offered him a coy wave as she gave in and reached for one of her rosy-pink pillows and hugged it close, smiling into the grey lace ruff as she watched him paw at the stones behind her faded arras. He chanced another quick look back at her- something she appreciated greatly- and then there was the husky cough of old stones shifting and turning.

Her bedroom was circular like her antechamber where her lessons were held each day, and this room as well was lined with grey pillars she often considered having painted white, or simply replaced when she had the time to order it done and could stand the inconvenience. It was the seam between the grey cinder stones of the wall and one of those grey pillars which eased open now, and with one final glance between them, Accolon vanished behind the curtains, a wet, musky smell wafting unpleasantly into the room before he was able to shut it tight against the odour she so strongly disliked.

Alone once the stones stopped sliding and grumbling like unruly old men, Elda sighed.

She cast her eyes around her chamber, turning her noes up at the film of dust over her white-stained wardrobe and dressing table. Her bed was of the same bleached and curved style, but it hadn't been made for her; it was the bed of many generations of Princesses. That was why the stains and paints were all cracked and yellowed, exposing the brittle wood underneath. Her silk sheets weren't threadbare, but they didn't sigh and sing the way silk for her gowns did, and that annoyed her.

Even the pillow she'd embraced had traces of grey fluff across its supposedly-white lacing. It irritated her, just like the grey of her pillars instead of pristine white. Or the faded pink of her curtains instead of the majestic red they originally had been when she was small. Elda didn't know why she should have to suffer so, because to have it all changed would take days and days and days. Even if she had it all sewn and stitched before hand, it would still mean grubby maids and bitter servants crawling _all around_ her chambers.

And that was something Elda couldn't stand the thought of. The prospect of not only the poor rifling through her tender garments and fine jewels, but even the slightest... consideration... that some lowborn vile-blooded slope might come in and- eeugh!! No! What was she supposed to do, sew it herself? Impossible! Her dainty hands were meant for royal gems and tender kisses, not jabbing needles and coarse silk threads.

But on those thoughts, her mind drifted back to the squire who'd just left her...

"Someday, my Champion will visit me without having to run away or hide... Someday..."

Someday soon. She'd make it so.

* * *

Once out and away from his Princess's chambers, Accolon had to double-time it over moulding stones and around hanging films of airy decay. He'd stayed much too long and had seen other boys take a real hiding for being late like he was now. But at the very least he had an advantage over those unfortunate noble boys; he had the tunnels.

Every time Boss ever passed through these wet and musky passages, he thought of their cramped, dryer cousins which threaded under the floors and slipped between the walls in the rest of the castle. Right under his feet even. And if he had to think about the crawlspaces, then thoughts of the Nest were never far behind.

As a boy Boss'd taken and hidden any number of odds and ends in that private little hollow. Even scratched the mark of it with arrows pointing onto several walls and turns within the passages to help him find it every time. He may not've been the first boy to find it, but he still had hopes that he wouldn't be the last one either. No one ever mentioned or spoke of it in passing though, he'd never heard a boy older than him mention it to his own group, and his little band had never said a word of any secret places or hidden treasures. He wasn't the first, he wouldn't be the last, but maybe it was something as old as the stones themselves that kept any of them from saying a word about it.

Still though, for the few years he'd been strong enough to pull himself through them, and still small enough to not get stuck in those crawl spaces, Boss'd left any number of valuable or much loved trinkets in the Nest. He'd been crushed the year he tried to get back in after the summer's heat and had found his shoulders too wide to get in properly. Maybe he could've gone forwards and still made it back out again, but the risk had been too great even for a precious yellow ten-piece. And now? Well, obviously now it was completely out of the question.

Come to think of it, actually, that had also been the same summer and winter when he had begun to catch Elda's eye. And her his, of course. He'd been newly put to setting tables, and it had just so happened that... well...

Light was a blessing ill-allowed in these inner tunnels, at least in the more decrepit ones like the corridor Boss was traversing now. Elda's chambers required that he follow the water lines, the flow which had been diverted from the river by engineers generations before to clean out the castle's underbelly. Kitchen scraps and sewage were dumped into the flow, same as where the wash and drinking water was drawn by pumps and wells scattered throughout the lower levels of the palace. Some said that before the destruction in another monarch's reign, it had been possible to have water brought to the highest levels of the palace through pipes and pumps alone. Well, that certainly would've been nice to have again now...

He knew this path well enough by now that he didn't need to fear the growing roar of the water as he trounced along old grates and mouldy boards. The water ran parallel with him for a while before he knew it would divert off, running to join the flow from the city and then surge along to who-knew-where to be taken care of. Still though, when his booted feet struck slick wood instead of hard stone, or even the jangling of aging grates, he'd slow his pace and step more lightly, using one hand along the mildew-coated wall to make sure he wasn't suddenly dropped in the darkness to the swirling waters and ultimately an unpleasant death.

He was counting quietly in his head as he continued to keep pace through the dark labyrinth. Once as a smaller boy he'd gotten himself horribly lost down here. It wouldn't surprise him if there was an exit down here some place that led all the way to the city, but he'd never told a soul those thoughts. The caves got deeper and darker the farther away from the water you went, and he'd been so lost that the trickles and roars of the flow had been completely silent to him. There were ghosts if you went too far into the darkness. Ghosts and ghouls and demon things. Boss had seen one, Boss knew. He'd never have found his way back if he hadn't...

Those thoughts and the memories of that faded, silken light from years ago was enough to make him lose count of his paces and turns. Eyes-widening in the pitch for a moment, he swallowed a slight lump in his throat. He knew he was close to the exit, so it should just be a case of continuing on, and then, hopefully-

"Ow...!" -found it! Rubbing his noes and forehead slightly, he made sure no splinters from the aged and sickly wood had gone and stuck themselves in his skin. He jerked the old twisted door open and squeezed himself through past the aching joints. It shut with just as much difficulty, but at least he was away from the wet. Just the one door was enough, actually, though he could still hear the water both through the rickety portal behind him and just by placing one hand on the cool stone. Not wet anymore, but still cold, still clammy. A long ways from the surface but longer still from where he needed to be.

But the complete pitch of the water-way wasn't duplicated here and Boss was able to immediately break out into a run. There was a faint half-light here, a red glow nearly two corners ahead of him giving him enough to see just the definition of the walls, so he didn't go running into anything. He almost tripped and swore as he hopped on one foot for a few leaping steps- he always hit that brick!- but aside from that he was quickly making up for lost time.

There was so little in this world that was worse than tardiness; in the kitchens it got you a hiding, as a squire, it got you a hiding plus several hours of whatever back-breakingly tedious work the Taskmaster demanded of you. Boss hadn't been late yet, but he'd heard the stories and seen the tasks assigned. And unless he suddenly sprouted wings and managed to fly to the yard he was expected to be at there was no way he was going to avoid punishment today.

And as if there was nothing else to add, it wasn't as though the training yard he was expected to be at was nearby. No, of course not. Instead Boss was mentally trying to map out the number of buildings and open lots parceled about over his head. The Servant's Wing stretched all the way from the palace proper to the citadel perched up just before the decent down into the city, and Boss was currently running width-wise along one of the many unused or simply forgotten annexes buried down under stables and old gardens. He needed to be right in the shadow of the old Citadel, next to the large pen and track where his Majesty kept the greater number of his animals.

The King was almost peculiar in that way; there was a smaller, more cleanly and impressively cared for stable right up and off to the side of the palace's main gardened entrance. But the King kept all but his favourite stallions and mares in the far stable where Boss was headed now. It was the same complex that housed the animals for most of the other noble-folk who dwelt within the palace; why would his Highness share the stalls with them?

Boss didn't know how else to word the question to himself as his chest was beginning to ache from his run, a stitch forming in his side as he almost passed and skidded abruptly to a halt on the dusty stones. The exit he needed was no stair way or broken off corridor into the lively bustle of the Servant's wing- though he'd come far enough by now that he could almost fancy the sound of mulled voices and quick feet another hundred yards or so through the gloom.

What he wanted was the alcove he'd nearly passed in the murky dark. He darted down into the space that was only a few inches shy of his blond head, wide enough however for his hands to go stretching out to their max without really touching either wall. There were bent metal bars looping out've the mortar and stone work however, and Boss hardly spared himself the breath it took to begin hoistin' himself up. The ceiling a scarce foot or so from the bars formed a thin and cramped tunnel that only years of crawlspaces and Servant life could keep him calm enough to pass through. His elbows struck stone twice and he hissed between harried breaths- Elda'd get so mad at him if he ruined this unmanageable red frock!

Up and up, arms cramping, legs feeling numb from all the running. For a good while he couldn't see nothin'- not enough room to look down and no real indication of how high he'd come or had left to go when he craned his head up- but soon enough he knew where he was again. A thin, near-white film of daylight came to his eyes, slanting brokenly from the end of the tunnel now coming within easy sight of him.

He knew to watch out for the missing rung when his hand groped and found nothing, recovering quick as a flash and hoisting his feet up two steps at a time to avoid whatever unpleasant bruises and cuts he'd get if he fell from way up here. Resting his back against the cold and dirtied stones once the top was reached, Boss shoved his hands up and felt them connect with several soft, nearly wet planks of wood.

He shuddered. Kitchen work prepped you for bloods and biles and phlegm. You got used to lumps of fat and peeling skin and broken bits of bone. But dung and droppings were on the complete other end of the spectrum and Boss's stomach didn't take well to the idea of it as he pushed and shoved and almost blinded himself with the sudden flood of light.

Fresh air! If only it were that simple. Gasping and gagging at the same time, the squire had his hands down on the hay-tousled floor and he made his arms work one more time to hoist himself up out of the ground. He was in the stables, and in a stall he'd never seen used before and didn't like the sudden company in- no fault of the beast itself of course, nature was nature, stalls were stalls, but still.

Panting for breath and red all up in the face, Boss was busy kicking the boards back into place- no, he couldn't bring himself to go touching those green-soiled splotches and bits of blackening straw with his hands!- before he finally looked around and saw just which animal he'd burst in on.

The first thing he saw- well, it wasn't all that impressive really- was the horse's ass. All black and crusted and- wait, who really wanted to pay attention to that? Horrible, no, of course not! It was a mare and she was white, that was all he ought to have noticed from behind, and it was all he did notice as he wrinkled his nose up and got a hold of himself again, good and proper like a squire ought to.

"Sorry to disturb you, Milady." He said quick in a quiet voice, all soft-like as he made sure his hands weren't too dusted with dirt and rust before he set his hand down on the milky white hide of the animal. There was a loud snort and a moment later as Boss stepped forward he was looking into a pair of luminescent black eyes. Now, wasn't that a surprise!

"Why, yer that little city gal now ain't cha?" He bit his lip and felt himself both freeze up and smile at once. He smiled because of how he spoke, how Elda had already reprimanded him before on sounding too much like a servant boy and letting his words come out all un-regal sounding. But he froze up and felt his stomach twist all up because he remembered how and when he'd last seen this creature. Though he knew why there was a tinge of darkness not linked to colour or daylight drifting through her sad orbs.

"I'm supposed to be a knight, y'know?" He reached for her muzzle, slow and soft-like. Her head was bent around so she could see him all good and proper, nostrils flaring without sound as she snuffed at his red fingers a moment then let him rest his touch against the softness of her long snout. "And your going to foal His Highness's next great steed."

She pulled her head away, and Boss was left to stumble slightly as her great body moved, feet plodding softly against the hay speckled ground. To be realistic the stall where they stood now was greater in all three dimensions than the room he'd shared with Sneak for years down beneath the castle. She was truly a great animal to feel cramped within this space, and she was, he just sort of knew it by how she stood and lowered her head down into the large food trough. There was power and strength in her toned form, but here she was, pent up. It saddened him really, and yet he didn't know why that might be. Kitchens. You never saw much of horses in kitchens, only in the worst of years and even then they looked little different on the spit than a leg of beef or a larger-than-average goat.

He went up to her again, watching as she took one lazy chop from the feed laid out before her before simply keeping her head down low. Those eyes through, they swiveled back up as he came around to her; ears twisting around as he lay one hand on her wide neck, giving a stroke before he thought of something else to say, and said it.

"You're going to be defined by the little 'uns you bear, not by what you can do on your own..." Her head remained down, but her eyes kept looking up. He swallowed hard once under that solumn gaze. "I'm defined by who bore me, and what clothes I wear, and how I sound like when I talk. We just do what we're told..." He felt calm, if not a little sad for it though. But as he stood there he rubbed her neck again only to remember something he'd half forgotten until now.

"Highness said I might ride you, said it 'fore everything went so wrong in your old home." He let his head rest against the strength of her for a moment, blinking in surprise when he felt corded muscles pulling and her great muzzle snuffing at his pockets and the draping sleeves of his tunic.

"Horses like carrots, and apples I suppose?" He asked with a chuckle, and her eyes were up and looking into his face again as Boss bit his cheek and gave her a grin anyways. His hands came up and he fisted them on his hips, taking up a stance so familiar to him he was surprised to find he hadn't used it since squirehood had dropped on him... what a load off his shoulders!

"Carrots and apples. I got neither but I can get em, right? A'ight then, here's the plan." He snapped his fingers with one hand and pointed towards the hidden door he'd popped up out've a few minutes earlier.

"I'll knock three times on that there portal 'fore I come through next time, right? And I'll have a big pocket full o' something from the kitchens. My boys might be gone but I know a few fellers down there with the peelin' and the choppin' still." He smiled, and it wasn't the same as the ones he gave Elda. Dear to him as she was he always felt like the world was in a sort of warm, hazy sleep when he was with her. Not a bad thing, never that, but there was a clarity of life and the world outside stone walls that he'd always been able to get an inkling of, always catching the shadow of, but now he was finally able to get a good, real sense of it all.

"When I'm a Knight you're my horse, you won't be kept up in these tiny spaces." He said simply, watching her go for another snuff around his waist before he got her attention good and sound again with his voice, running his hand down that smooth mane of soft white hair. "And you won't be sleeping' on green hay and wet boards. And you'll get apples right out of my lady's hand. And when I'm a Knight we'll ride out across the countryside and we'll do great deeds and help the good people. And when I-" He licked at his lips, looking past the great shoulder of the white mount in front of him. When he was a Knight, oh glory when he was a Knight...

In the light of the sun streaming in through the stable windows he could hardly imagine all the things that would be and dreams that would come true when he had his sword and his shield.

"When we- when I..." Wait... sunlight... "I..." Oh _BY THE- _"I'm _late!!_"

_Wahaha!! No! Late, late, **late!!'**_

* * *

**Boss _deserves_ to be late because he killed my story again. Boss really needs to stop doing that. It's fun to write for the other three boys, or even for Elda who I got done all in one quick, neat and simple sitting. But Boss kills everything. He _deserves_ to be late. DESERVES IT.**

**More world-building next chapter plus Sneak and Co. Who remembers that place with the L-name?**


	12. Perspective

**The speech this chapter is pretty long and, as you will see, takes up the bulk of the first perspective. But frankly I found it to be pretty important, a nice contrast and parallel to Labrynna in Matters. I know, I know, I know that this still doesn't look like a sequel, and it's been going on slowly for... a very long time... but I really do still intend to work on it! XD**

**A Note on the World Map: The world map I use puts Hyrule as the farthest western nation. Going east there is the middle land of Hollodrum, and in MotS's time then came Labrynna.**

**Hollodrum bordered on Labyrnna to the east and somewhat to the north. Hollodrum has expanded in this story to hold the northern half of Labrynna where as Hyrule holds the Southern half including the sites of Lynna City and Ambi's tower as a colony. The entire northern half of the known world is controlled by the Zora and Goron co-olition, dipping down into the borders of Hyrule (Zora's Domain) and probably with some shifts here and there along the north of the Hollodrumite Republic. _'Labrynna'_ no longer borders Goron territory as it did in Matters.**

**If it seems odd to world in an Author's note, think about it this way; most novels have a map in the first few pages, where's my map space?**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Perspective

"I am grateful for such an early audience before this council." And it was indeed early, the water of the Falls still tumbling like torrents of shredded ice. The sun was only beginning to ascend over the sheltering mountains surrounding the city heights, and Kalvin could feel the chill.

Cupping his hands together and blowing his warm breath over them for a bit of respite, it was nearing spring and almost full daylight, so it would not be so bad for too much longer. It was a welcome relief at least that his hosts didn't expect him to dive down into their preferred meeting room, one of the less turbulent pockets of water up in the higher reaches of the Falls, it was far below them now however. Kalvin made sure that despite the nippy feel, he remained up to his knees in the frigid waters to show he wasn't afraid of the council, or that he thought something unsightly of them, for that would be the furthest thing from the truth anyways. Zora were captivating people, most removed from the faces of his South Labrynnian home, but with a grace and formality to them not seen in their country folk- the rough and tumble Gorons of the crimson mountains.

Zora heads pocketed the surface of the swirling waters, not a lagoon proper as they were high enough above the city that Kalvin could feel the winds tugging at his tunic and trousers, but nearly twenty paces across and likely with an adjoining cavern underneath to take the council member's into the stronger currents and let them dive away home when things were done.

Across the lagoon and the dozen or so scale and fin-edged scalps there was a slight dais. It rested just out of the water, a throne as there ever was, but the council member who sat there was not a monarch. Instead, a Zora oddly clothed in attire similar to human robes, only made clearly of fish scales and cultivated vines and water lilies. It was a regal if cumbersome article by the looks of things, the hawk-nose and broad cranium of the female Zora leading the council alien in robes resembling -but not exactly mirroring- those of another culture. But she was no queen.

In truth, there had been no Zora King or Queen in nearly a hundred years, as the slow dissolution of power from monarch to appropriate council had eventually led to their final king simply renouncing the claim and line entirely. Kalvin could easily guess without real empathy that it had probably been a bitter affair, but knew it hadn't been violent or at all mean-spirited. On the contrary, he'd heard rumors that at least one of the old King's descendants floated in the lagoon before him. No royal power, but rather equal opportunity to all members of their community and nation for power and responsibility. There was no tyranny in the Northern Union, the pact of Zora and Goron with their combined territories spreading across the backbone of the continent. There was no tyranny, there was no oppression, there was no extortionist principles applied to their lands and peoples. These people were united and they were free.

As his people would be free.

"I humbly ask that each of you recall again the words I spoke to you on this very spot. The facts I have given you, the reports I have detailed, the pleas and incessant cries I have made to you. The peace of your expansive and yet well-traveled domain is no triviality to the rest of the world, nor to myself. I do not come here on behalf of my family and my country to rally you to some barbaric act of brutality and conquest." It took a strong voice to carry over the constant roar of the Falls and their shimmering spray. He could only hope his could keep up the strain. This would be his third and final speech before the council, his last chance to put forth his case before the talks would wind down to deliberation on their part, and end with either acceptance or dismissal.

"Hear me, hear the plight of those who are without blood and yet who are family and flesh to me. My brothers and sisters- the ones whose backs are broken and beaten upon from day to day in their labours. My children- who starve in streets or are cast into the wilds to find means for themselves. My forefathers- those who lie with no rites or memorial save the bitter earth they succumbed to under iron boots and fists- these are my people!"

His people, his people. It was a thought that could both terrify and yet stimulate him so. South Labyrnna was his home, it always had been. It could never be replaced in his heart by anything even if he saw it razed to the ground and left as naught but smoldering ruin. He'd die the day it came to that, but he'd never forsake his homeland. Let the lions come for him, they could not take his spirit.

"Only once; just once." His voice fell here, he wanted to stop speaking so highly and just speak as a normal man ought to. Come to them, appeal to them, try anything at all that could make them see his words as he had seen the horrors which inspired spurred him on. But the turbulence of the water was against him, and Kalvin forced his voice back up again, he had to.

"Only once has the cry and call for war trembled through the bones and sinews of this coalition! Only once has the combined might of Jabu-Jabu's blessed children been riled up into the roar which could drown out even the power of your mighty city to a silent trickle! Only once have Earth and Water raised spear and club to strike down tyranny and distension! And there was victory!"

"The Grottos of my homeland's waters have lain silent and dead for too long now, just as there has been naught but muffled cries and weak death upon the land since the day the Lions began to prowl across the shorelines and devour all in their wake. Your people tell legends and tales of the massacres and destruction which overcame your southern tribesmen; the ones too far removed for such a young and untried union to come to the immediate aid to. The lifeblood of Labrynna's waters flows through the currents of this very Council! I know this: I can feel it as surely as I can feel my own blood pounding through my veins!"

"The Lion which has sharpened its claws along our backs for too long to count is weakening. It is sickening with its ignorance and wallows in its own filth just as it forces down those who are not even apart of it to succumb and writhe in its shared misery."

A breath, he needed a breath, needed to take one. He didn't know for a moment why he was seeing the rocks shaped differently around him until Kalvin realized that he had not stood strong in one place as he ought to have. He had wandered, still was in fact as he was tempted to scoop up from the icy water flowing past his knees and wet his throat a little. But he had more decorum than that, he had to anyways. His hands remained dry and he forced the numbness of his legs to the back of his mind as his eyes scanned the bobbing heads of the Zora in front of him. Calm, then begin again. Begin again so he could finish and let this all end or at last rise to a true beginning.

"People of Nayru, Children of Jabu-Jabu, our gods are forsaken in the heart of the land they loved first and dearest. But to strike the Golden Land itself is an act which had been undertaken only once in known history by forces not under some direction of malevolence. It is not the Golden Power long vanished from the world which my people seek, it is not the gates of their imperial city I wish ever to see cast open by force. It is their hearts, their minds, and their poisoned shackles which we cry to break forth and open!"

"Do not look to the West! Do not! There is nothing within the Golden Land which the people of South Labrynna yearn for. It is our own lives, or own destinies, our own power to forward ourselves into an age which may hope to glimmer half as brightly as that of this council and what you seek to uphold and represent. If the names of Lynna, Ambi, and Raphael are all dead and forgotten in this world then so be it. If Annexation be the road to the future, absorbed by the history and progress of the Republic of Hollodrum then it shall be walked. But please-!"

Please, Kalvin was pleading. He was on his edge and had to put down the squeamish shudder in his belly at the thought of shaking off the chains of colonization only to sell themselves into annexation...

"But please, if the past is dead and our legends are lost, do not leave the people left behind to suffer any more with what has been done. Free us! Free our brothers and our sisters and our children. Free the memories of our forefathers, and let us walk to the future with our heads- at least- held high..."

* * *

"Cold down 'ere..."

"Nothin' fer a light, can't even see m'face..."

"I can: bad as ever."

"Stuff it. Hold my cloak."

"You're mental! I ain't clingin' like no stupid-!"

"_Shaddup_! Not so loud!"

"Yer no better!"

"What the- who's there?!"

"Who's where?! _Sneak!?_"

"_Get back!_"

"Watch that ledg- _hey!_"

"AH!!"

"_Pegleg!?_"

"_**B-B-BOSS!!"**_

* * *

Otto had more than enough to deal with, and now this. He gave a harsh puff and let the current flare up his gills to show his displeasure.

"Why tell _me_ this? By w_hat_ Authority?" He said tersely. He shouldn't be using the Invocation, it was bad manners the way he said it and completely unlike him. The messenger seemed to agree, stomping his feet in the watery passage where the two of them were conversing.

"The Council is meeting with the South Labrynnian diplomat, Brother; of course I came to you." Ohohoh but Otto didn't like hearing that tone used on him, it made him feel all warm and puffy and completely uncomfortable when he made people mad at him. Should he just apologize now? But this was such an obtuse subject!

"I understand I am the Guide this turn, but is this really-?"

"_Brother__!_" Ack! Now the messenger really _was_ mad at him! "Did you not hear me? They appeared from the south- the old currents with the brisk fall towards the plains. Collect yourself and listen." Collect himself, collect himself, yes... He was growing too high strung these days, the time was coming and he had such a hard time keeping- "You're not _listening!_"

No, no he wasn't, and Otto gave himself a snap as he found himself slowly drifting along in the quiet current. The pure black of the Goron messenger's gaze held an ounce or so of irritation, but Otto made himself brush past it as he stretched out his back and fins as he twisted in a spiral. The ceremonial wreath across his torso was a cumbersome article, and he was still becoming accustomed to it. He'd be the city's Guide to newcomers and visitors for the next cycle of seasons and rains, the Lottery had chosen him. If he was to fulfill his duty then that meant he would have to just calm down and...

"I _am_ listening." A fib, but just a small one. "Your report is troubling; will the Goron Brothers be willing to house them until new chambers are prepared over the water line? I will inform the Diplomat, if they are from the south as you say I'm sure he'll want to know..." Thankfully, after musing over the instructions the green and blue-tattooed brother nodded to him.

"That will be fine, Zora-Brother. I already have one of them resting in my dwelling with my young one, my neighbours have taken the other two plus the animal. Once you have the time..."

"I'll be there immediately once I have time for it. Thank you." Oh dear oh dear, as if he didn't have enough to worry about already!

* * *

Sneak's head hurt, really, really badly. He could smell dirt and stone, like he was stuck someplace damp, but at the same time it was warm. Odd. Thuma never put anything warm down in the cells whenever he got in trouble; the old hag.

He rolled over, he was on something hard and warm yet he wasn't uncomfortable. He tried to reach and paw at whatever was under him, but his hands couldn't figure out if it was wood or stone or something else. He was wrapped up in his cloak...

Opening his eyes groggily, he saw-

"BROTHER!"

"BAAAAAW!!" Violet eyes, onion-head- flesh eater!

"L-Little-Brother calm down!"

"Get back! Get away from m-_!_" Sneak jumped up so fast that at first he didn't know why he was back down on his knees with a throbbing head. His eyes went cross and filled with tears so the world was just dull reds and browns. He'd been swinging his cloak around like a weapon and felt the rough material bite his fingers as he reached one hand up and press down on the pounding ache in the back of his skull.

"Goro-goro, Little-Brother, you are too big to jump like that..." Sneak realized he was on a piece of wood, closing his eyes he gave his head a firm shake trying to clear it away; he'd been knocked worse. The piece of wood was sitting on an alcove in the wall, like a shelf.

The flesh-eater was down on the floor in front of him, Sneak's watery vision clearing up enough for him to see the aqua-green complexion of its round body, pearly white growths crowning its onion-shaped head and creeping over its shoulders. The entire body was grossly disproportioned; squashed and pointy head, giant skull-crushing mouth with fatty brown lips, skinny arms with huge hands edged in smooth-but-scaley nails. Its body was round with a fat stomach sticking out, dwarfing the creature's small feet and meaty thighs. Even its eyes were terrifying; perfectly round drops of violet sitting in that creepy-shaped face. They even had the audacity to look _innocent!_

"Little Brother?"

"D-Don't call me that! _Git back!_" Violet eyes blinked at him, flesh-eating mouth hanging open dumbly. Then the monster stepped back?

"Like this, Brother?"

"I ain't yer brother!"

"Goro-goror, Brother, that is very rude..." The strangest thing about its voice was the way it would make that sound at the beginning or end. _Gorogorogoro_ made him think of grinding stones in the Palace's spice-rooms where all the herbs were dealt with and made into potions or bottled for foods. But the creature's voice wasn't as rocky. In fact, it was sort of high, or at least higher than he would have expected.

"Not as rude as kidnappin' me! I ain't yer dinner neither!"

"Little-Brother!" Violet eyes went cross and the flesh-eater lifted its hands up to its head before dropping them down and shaking its heavy head, stomping both feet on the ground so hard Sneak gave a short help as his shelf tipped and he fell back on his romp; nearly strikin' his head a second time.

"You fell in the canal, Little Hylian! My father and his Good-Brother have kept you safe and warm in our homes for two days now! Zora-Brothers say you are too skinny, very hurt, have fever from your broken feet! Goron favours only go so far, Little Hylian. Sharpen your tongue on my father and his Good Brother and all of you will be given to Zora-Brothers instead where you will freeze and drown because they have no warm dwellings like Goron-Brothers!"

Well, that made him stop a tick.

Still on his romp, Sneak did his best not to break eye-contact with the Flesh-Eater even as it finished speaking and scowled at him meanly. It then mimicked him by dropping down on its rump on the floor, going a step forward to fold its arms and shimmy around on its backside until it was facing away from him. Clearly he'd made it mad, but it wasn't...

"Yer not gonna eat me?" Then where were Pegleg and Whimpers, he wondered? No doubt already eaten as dinner on the last two nights!

"Little Hylian you are no Brother of mine!" Sneak rolled his eyes at the Flesh-eater's back. Sure, it looked big and scary and would probably eat him by tonight, but it sure sounded a lot like Whimpers with his whimperin'.

Sneak looked at his feet, at first he thought they'd gone green and slimy from some terrible disease but then he realized it was just some kinda slimy green plant that'd been wrapped 'round his whole foot like a new pair of socks. There was somethin' pusy and blue underneath an' when he poked it it felt cold and grainy. His feet didn't hurt for the first time in weeks.

But he was hungry, so at least his stomach knew better than to growl out-loud. He looked around the rest of the place instead.

The room was a soft red colour, completely made out of rock though Sneak couldn't see a single line 'o mortar or lock in the stones to suggest it had been anything other than dug out. There were no sharp lines or even straight ones, everythin' had a rough-an'-tumble jaggedness to it, or wind-blown like old dust after sweepin' away ashes.

Next to his captor there was a low table and a serious dip in the floor all around it like a dry mote. The door was large with no actual door there to stop people from comin' and goin', just a big round hole in the wall that showed just more red stone. The 'ole place was lit up by the half-wall off to Sneak's right, flames quietly burning up from a ridge in the top of said short-wall which had another open section for gettin' around the home. The deep ridges in the floor made a nice path from door to table to said wall and out of Sneak's limited range of sight.

The air was dry and warm and though it smelt of old dust Sneak couldn't see a film or layer anyplace to show that was what it was. The walls had painted handprints and red streaks of mountain ranges on 'em everywhere. He thought it looked terrible until he thought of the dead and faded tapestries everyplace in the Castle, or the dull awnings along the city's western thoroughfare which took away from the shattered fountains and grimey coloumns. At least the paintings looked fresh, almost alive...

The silence stretched, the Flesh-eater dwelling was far too quiet, sort of like Thuma's office before she actually got down to a lecture and a hiding. Finally it was getting to be too much, but before Sneak could do anything the Flesh-eater on the floor gave an angry huff and shuffled around on its bottom again, scowling at him with those violet eyes.

"Why Little Hylian think Talin eat him?" Sneak blinked at the Flesh-eater, then snarled back at him with an answer.

"It's what you Flesh-eaters do!" He snapped, arms folded to mirror _'Talin' _the Flesh-eater. "Ye chew on rocks to sharpen yer teeth an' wait for travelers from the Golden Land, then yer shred our flesh an' gobble us down in bloody pieces!"

"WOAH!" There was no reason for it, Sneak was still on his ledge and the Flesh-eater was down on the floor, but that didn't stop the monster from flailing its mishapen arms out and falling backwards before rocking right back up into a sitting position. Then it climbed back up to its feet and stared at him, mouth hanging open.

"Who said that to Little Hylian? Talin only once eat flesh at Good-Zora-Brother festival, fish-flesh she said taste better than red and yellow clay combined. I eat and then feel sick and squirm all night; Talin will never eat flesh again." The Flesh-eater-but-not frowned deeply then, Sneak about ready to spit back a nasty reply before the monster heaved itself up onto its feet, turning away from him.

"But Little Hylian will..." Little Hylian will _what?_

"_Th'ell're you bloody daft!?"_ Shocked that he'd said anything at all, the Flesh-eater ignored him completely, sticking its hand into the wall of flames keeping the space lit and warmed. "That's fire!"

"Talin is a Goron, Little Hylian. Fire is not painful to Goron-Brothers, we are strong like the mountains." They were damned and bloody _monsters_ is what they were!

"Here, you eat." Eat fire? Not bloody likely! But what was that smell?

Perched up on his little shelf that he had no intention of leaving till it was safe, Sneak felt like a kitchen cat weighing the odds of getting burned by the ovens or catching the stove mouse darting in and around the coals. The Flesh-eating-Goron pulled a handful of some odd-cooked thing out of the ridge of fire, carrying it over to another shelf where there were slabs of clay set out like crude plates. Talin put the whatever-it-was on one of the plates and carried that over to Sneak's shelf.

"Fish-flesh caught by Good-Zora-Brother. She say Human-Brothers need fish cooked until skin is black and chips off like thin shale, Talin made it like that so now you eat before my father comes back." Maybe, but then he'd gone and mashed it all up in his big Flesh-eater hands!

"_You eat this,_ or nothing,Little Hylian._"_

Sneak felt his eye give a twitch and that was the end of the discussion. He snatched the crude plate away greedily, holing himself up in the corner of his little shelf and shoving chunks of steaming white into his mouth. He didn't blink, watching the Flesh-eater to make sure Talin didn't do anything like try to eat him. He gave a hack and cough, almost dropping the food but spilling it onto himself instead -a habit picked up in the kitchens, if it was on you then no-one else could eat it!- before reaching back into his mouth and wriggling his fingers around until he found the thin bone and yanked it out before he really choked.

"Little Hylian, there is much food..." He scrubbed his eyes free of the tears that always welled up when he almost choked glaring at the Flesh-eating-liar and greedily shoving the last of the fish in his mouth. He was _still_ watching the monster as he lifted the plate up and licked up the last of the mashed-white flecks. He even ate the bones; more careful now to swallow them length-wise instead of width. "My threat was not real, there are other foods for hu-"

"If it wasn't real then you shouldn't have said it." Sneak hissed back, putting the plate down on the ledge and backing away into his corner again, glaring. His stomach was greedily churning over what he'd eaten; it was a portion he could live off of, but after those weeks traveling with less-than-usual to eat it simply wasn't enough.

"Look at you, you've never starved a day in your life." He glared at the creature's violet eyes, he glared harder at Talin's girth. "You won't eat fish just because it tastes bad, you think there's enough food for you to be picky." Like the nobles who always sent back perfectly good mutton or cured ham or fresh bread. Sneak had never complained then because it meant the waste was his. But he wasn't in the kitchens anymore; there was even less in the world than the measly scraps he'd eaten off the floor. He could eat when he could sneak around and steal, but he couldn't steal from birds and badgers.

"My father said there was not enough food for Hyrule in the winte-"

"_There's never enough food for Hyrule!"_ He leapt to his feet so fast he almost cracked his head on the top of his alcove again before he remembered and ducked his shoulders so it didn't happen. The monster fell back and stared at him but Sneak didn't care.

"Not one noble ate bones all winter! They knew people were dyin' but there was always plenty on their stupid plates and platters, so who cared if the scribes an' servants an' babes below 'em all starved an' died! Spring grain comes an' all-is-well, 't least 'till you take a bloody walk around town an' see the dead layin' in 'ere own muck 'n filth!" He wanted to say more, had plenty of words bottling up in his throat to scream and shout and holler about, but as fast as the sense to say them had come it left him.

He'd eaten stale bread and goat-fat, horse's oats and scrub-grass, he'd licked frail bones off a dirt plate. The world vanished into a red and blue blurr, the fire-wall still warbling away and the Goron just sitting stunned in front of him. Sneak dropped down and ignored the bruising pain in his backside; he'd been hit worse for bein' hungry. But he was just so hungry...

"Little Hylian..." Sneak fumbled for the plate, he'd already licked it but there was the smell of food still on it, the fish's oil had sunken in and he could smell it. He was so hungry he broke the clay in two. "Little-" He'd eaten a little and that had made his stomach wake up, now it was starving and tyin' itself in knots, trying to kill him with the pain.

He sank his teeth into the soft clay, like gnawing on a stuck-pig's leg, but his jaws forgot he was only gnawing so instead he bit it right off. His tongue was stupid too; it felt the weight of the brick and thought it was alright to eat since it was already in his mouth. He chewed the soft dirt until it was a heavy paste and swallowed, his stomach too starved for his throat to dare close up and make him spit it out. He was so hungry...

If he could keep down bones and dirt then he wouldn't die from pain, he'd die from having his body fade away to the same stuff he was eating and be done with it that way.

"Little Brother..." He still couldn't see straight, blinking hot tears out of his eyes only to have more well up right behind them. Why hadn't Talin left yet? That was what people did when he got quiet and stopped moving; they wandered off and forgot about him. The monster touched his wrists gently, but was still strong enough that when Sneak fought back a little he was easily over-powered. The Goron took the plate away but then put another one right in his hands and the smell of hot, fresh-cooked fish overwhelmed him.

"Little Brother, this is not Hyrule. Here there is Zora-food and Goron-food, and we have food enough to share. But you should eat the Zora-food, Little Brother, and I will eat the Goron-food... A little fish never hurt a Brother..."

* * *

**NOBODY E-MAILED OR OTHERWISE POKED ME EXCEPT I THINK MAYBE DANTARON ONCE OR TWICE. Chapter was completely frozen at around the first paragraph of Sneak's POV all year. XD**

**I really do like this story, honest, especially Sneak as I think was outlined by this last part here once it got going. Hopefully, despite it being so long and my totally spending time on another equally massive project with a completely different tone to the narrative, I can keep mah boys soundin' as rough an' tumble as they did for the first 11 chapters XP**

**Also, I did a back-read-and-edit of TAA so far, and am currently going through Matters again to get the same grammatical errors =P Currently on Chapter 12- how ironic!**


	13. Domain

**Chapter 12**

Domain

"Three young boys?"

"I'd have to guess the oldest to be about twelve winters..."

"Din above, that's terrible... And you say they had no food?" Watching as the city's Guide nodded to him, Kalvin frowned deeply and pushed himself up from where he'd been sitting cross-legged at the low table of his Goron Host. The Zora was watching his distress and the two were speaking alone for now; his Host having rolled off a moment earlier to attend to something.

"We thought it prudent to inform you once they began to wake. They had a bad fright in the old canal they entered from and toppled over into the stream, nearly going over the falls before the guard caught them."

"But this was two days ago, shouldn't I have been told before now?" It would have given him something other than the council to fret about all this time. "Well, what's done is done I suppose, thank you for telling me now, Guide Otto, may I please visit with them?"

"Of course, sir, but please be aware that one of them has a dreadful temper."

Doing his best not to roll his eyes or sigh at the Zora's warning, Kalvin contented himself by simply closing his eyes and then turning slightly to smile and nod at his curious companions. Well, curious save for Lester, the Hollodrumite Ambassador traveling with him and backing up his claims of the larger Republic's aid; the man was examining his monocle for any scratches or tarneshing along to silver hoop, his pinstripe hat resting on the table. Sally was paying attention however, still picking at her food but smiling up at him as he waited patiently.

"Do any of you want to come along?"

"They're Hylian, yes, but what do you intend to do by meeting with them?" He'd been speaking to Sally, but the apothecary giggled into her large mug as Lester pipped up instead. "I hope you don't expect King Nohansen to surrender your homeland for the sake of a few under-aged, half-starved hostages."

"Oh, bite your tongue, Lesty!" Turning back to the Guide as Sally spoke up harshly toward the Ambassador, Kalvin nodded his thanks for the message. He'd already been told where to find the boys so the Zora took the dismissal well and left, walking clumsily as his people often did when out of water and escaping out into the system of tunnels encompassing the upper half of the city.

"Silly girl, it's a valid assumption!"

"Is not! And besides, those boys could be really helpful to our cause!"

"At twelve and under? Hardly." Running a hand back through his hair as the two continued to bicker like they always did, Kalvin turned his attention to the fourth member of his party.

"Yoka?" There was no immediate answer, Yoka was staring at the ceiling again like he always did when indoors. Wide head swaying from side to side, long neck bending in a very fluid manner, completely oblivious of the conversation going on around him as he absently scratched his distended belly. "Yoka, do you want to come with me? _Yoka!"_

"Whaaaaaaa?" Rocking forwards, the Tokay seemed confused by all the voices. Neither a diplomat like Lester nor a healer like Sally, Kalvin still trusted his loyal, if sometimes dopey, lizard friend first.

"Lester says King not listen to little hostage boys. Sally says little boys be helpful. Zora-Guide say little boys be sick and unfriendly. Yoka thinks after big meal comes nap-time, then talk to little boys and know why they so far from King and Kingdom." Smiling, Kalvin nodded and let the Tokay go back to admiring the stonework cieling overhead. Glancing again to his other two companions, they were still embroiled in their discussion, but had moved on from the idea of hostage-taking to whose fault it was that Lester's other monocle had been smashed a week ago. Rolling his eyes, he waved a hand to the three of them and only got a bitter glare and a cheerful wave before departing.

Domain was a unique gem in the crown in the United Nation of Goron-Zora Alliance. Where most of the massive republic was dotted with settlements of primarily one race or the other, Domain was equal in accomodations for both earth and water-born citizens and was the official Capital. It had been a long, tiring road to reach, but well worth it if only for the experience.

At the centre of the city lay the Falls, atop which were the Council's main gathering halls and council chambers. Most administrative offices and departments were built into the water-soaked cliffs where the spray from the glacial water often froze over important, carved documents. Kalvin might have considered this a liability, at least until he'd been shown an eight-hundred year old scroll Recording Domain's water levels for the Zora population. The Nation wasn't that old, and the document was titled with the old, unoffical name of 'Zora's Domain', but freezing the parchment had preserved it completely.

Below the Falls there was the giant basin which held the honey-comb of flooded and dry caverns, above and below-water boulevards and high-traffic areas for both swimming Zora and rolling Gorons. The entire city was made and maintained for Goron travelers; the miners-by-nature not requiring air as humans or Tokay to speak and act. Most of these road-ways could be used by Kalvin and his party while making their way to and from the Councils atop the falls, but it was a hard climb and trek at the best of times. He'd spoken with the Goron Council in the same afternoon as their Zora counter-part, and the United Senate had been that evening. But he'd been spared the difficult climb so far since none of them had seen fit to summon him.

It was a thriving metropolis, stunning from the height he soon came to as he exited the honeycomb which stretched away into the dry mountain cradeling Domain and looked down from the smooth-shaped barricade into the deep swirling whirlpools and waterfalls of the city centre below the Falls. He could see schools of Zora swimming and arcing easily through the water, rolling Gorons with their blue-green skin and white stone shoulders rolling at blinding speed through the pristine currents. Currents directed traffic like the lights and conductors of Horon City at every intersection.

Kalvin still wasn't sure which city was larger; Horon or Domain. The former certainly took up more size on a map, but even with its high buildings some five or six stories tall in Hollodrum, Domain's watery core was too deep to see the bottom of, and from where he was standing some hundred yards or more above the centre looking down, he was still only half way up Domain's stone bowl. Per Capita? Impossible for him to know without census information, and that wasn't the point of this visit. The only city he was supposed to be concerned with was Lynna.

Stepping away from the stone balcony, Kalvin quickly recalled where he'd been told to look for the boys. Domain was a beehive in terms of activity, size, and complexity, but he was fairly certain he could find it without asking for too many directions. He set himself at a jaunty pace down the spiraling slope of the dry quarter where he was staying, careful not to let his feet carry him into a jog lest he tumble over and break every bone in his body on the way down to the water's edge. Twice he was almost run-down by a faster-paced Goron commuter, but he dodged in time and recieved a loud appology from the stone-bodied citizen with no time to properly stop for him. Such was city life.

It was hard to call a street a street once the sky was blocked by a mountain, but with cobbles and store-fronts and cafes and everything else, the boulevard he turned down was as busy and bustling as any avenue in Horon or Lynna. But instead of watching out for Horon's rampaging coaches or Lynna's rickety wagons, Kalvin had to take extra care not to be crushed by any of the large, if good-natured market-goers as he made his way quickly through the thoroughfare on light feet.

Closed off from the sky and with little wind to blow around, the air was surprisingly clear and cool. Of course, there were no animals to take care of in Domain, everything came in via river or on Goronback. Coaches and caravans from Hollodrum came into Domain from another sector of the city completely, and with a singing fountain on every block of live-stone buildings there was more than enough opportunity for citizens to remain clean and for what dust and dirt _was_ in the city to be sucked right out of the air and down the drain.

Turning down one of these convenient side-streets, Kalvin was slowly losing his way, but thankfully that wasn't such a problem.

"Roller Ingo? You've come the wrong way, go along another block that way to the Durbee Circle and take the spiral down four levels. That's where all the Messengers keep their dwellings and someone there should know who Ingo is." Sometimes it was better to ask a Zora than a Goron; fewer bone-crushing hugs that way, but he also had to be snickered and giggled at instead of laughed at abraisivly by the larger miners. Oh well, he followed the amber lighting of the city down the way he was told, coming to the large amphitheatre where the daily races were held.

Gambling was permitted in Domain, of course, but only in the Durbee Circles and only by competitors who had signed up and passed certain requirments. This was a Goron-only Circle, the cobbles smoothed away on the sides of the large bowl where up to seven Gorons could roll at once. In the centre there was a round pedestal for the Sumo matches before and after races, an impressivly tall Zora currently standing there, preparing to announce the next race to the bustling crowds seated and standing along the circle's edge.

The little human was careful not to get in the way of _any_ of these gamblers; as interesting as the Goron races were he found the Zora-Goron circles to be more entertaining. Sumo was better between Gorons alone, and for obvious reasons it was difficult -but not impossible- for him to watch a Zora Race or joust, but he'd been invited to and had the best time at the competitions which included both stone and water, areas where Gorons couldn't roll and Zora couldn't swim, etc, to decide the winners. It was an obstacle course for the body and mind, evenly stacking up one races' disabilities against the other's strengths and vice-versa. They were two completely different kinds of people from appearance to social and moral codes, but they lived so _easily_ together... Why couldn't humans do the same?

Kalvin gave himself a strong shake and started moving again, having stood there watching the race and thinking about the games when he should have still been moving. True, he didn't have anywhere he absolutely needed to be, this was just a passing venture, but still...

He found the spiral and decended, the walls lit with smokeless flame through the corkscrew which was blessedly wide enough for him not to worry about the troupe of Gorons who barreled past him going both up and down on errands. Counting out four levels, he was immediately met with a large bronze plaque which numbered off dwellings in the immediate area and gave the names.

"Ingo, Ingo, Ingo..." Aha! There it was... Bit of a walk, but not too far from where he was already.

There was absolutely _no_ natural light this far down and deep within Domain's wall. Still, there were fountains every-which-way and he even stopped for a quick drink from one as he counted off dwelling numbers and finally came to one which seemed filled to bursting with Gorons. Dwellings in Domain, because of how protected the city was, didn't have doors. Despite the strong distintion between public and private interactions, Zora had no use for them under-water and Gorons were too open-minded about friends and neighbours to bother with them.

Despite the crowd of four Gorons -he thought it was three but then saw the fourth, smaller one through the door- there was a deafening silence as Kalvin took a deep breath and stuck his head inside.

"Excuse me?" Gorons were a very open-minded people, but it never hurt to be polite. The three adults each glanced around at him, the youngster blinking around curiously before walking further inside and taking a seat. "I'm looking for Roller Ingo, is he here?"

"Aye, Brother." Heavy-handed arms folded, the blue-green adult in the middle spoke up, the stern expression on his wide face softening into a familiar Goron-Grin as he turned around properly and dropped the harsh stance. Stepping inside Kalvin took another deep breath and swallowed hard before the Goron could get too close; he'd been in their territory long enough to kno-

"You have come at a good time, Human-Brother! You must tell your Little Brothers they are being foolish!" Oh Din the pain! Kalvin felt himself choke back on spittel as his spine was bent back painfully and he was lifted right off his feet into the air. Ingo's embrace was absolutely crushing and it was all he could do not to lash out with a kick as his lungs started burning. He was released just as swiftly as he'd been picked up however, his feet failing miserably to catch him as he hit the ground and then stumbled back; nearly falling right out the dwelling door onto his back before Ingo grasped his arm and let him dangle breathlessly instead.

"Are you unwell, Human-Brother? Talin! Have you more food for our guest?"

"Uuuh..."

"There is Human-food in my dwelling, Brother Ingo." One of the other Gorons quickly spoke up, the youngster hidden off by the wall behind the table. "You have already served Chakar and I, your heart is too big." Kalvin found his footing again at long last, easing the strain on his shoulder as Ingo let go, making sure he was indeed safe to stand on his own and allowing Kalvin the chance to quickly speak up.

"I ate at Goron-Guide Darun's dwelling before coming, Roller-Ingo, I was just surprised." He abruptly had three grown Gorons giving him reproachful looks. "We humans are creatures of conduct, Goron hearts are bigger and bolder than I am used to. Indeed, you offer so much my heart can-"

"I dun' care 'bout 'is stupid heart, my head can't take 'nymore a his blitherin'!" Kalvin blinked once and then again. It took him three solid seconds to understand what the terribly slurred, mangled words meant, and by then it was far too late to be offended.

"_'neak..._" That one wasn't much better. Kalvin looked up at his hosts who were each rolling their eyes or shaking their heads in exhasperation. He couldn't see the speakers.

"May I?" He gestured absently with one hand, Ingo rolling his black eyes back before sliding over to one side and turning.

There were two boys, both seated on the floor at the table like how Lester and Sally had been before he'd left to come down here. One was clearly older and Kalvin agreed with the guess of twelve winters, but found eleven or ten more likely what with how skinny and worn he looked. His blond hair was lightly long and ragged around his cheeks and pointed ears, the skin along his neck rubbed raw as if his most recent bath had been the first in a good long while. His features were soft and his jaw might have been rounded if not for the signs of very sudden, prolongued weight loss. Hands on the table picking at his dirty nails, he had the length of a boy who would be a tall man provided he ate right and stayed healthy. His long white undershirt was much too big, fitting like a tunic with a rope belt keeping it right around him and his brown trousers up. His clothes were stained but not actually dirty anymore.

The boy next to him? Nine or ten, no older. He was pale and his skin showed signs of having burnt and blistered badly, only just healing up. His cheeks were swallow and eyes sunk deep into his thin face, a pair of small wire-framed glasses sitting on his nose; a surprising accessory considering his clothing was just as bad, if not worse, than the boy across from him. He was wearing a heavy cloak that was much too big for him despite the comfortable warmth of the dwelling, and his flaxen hair was cut in a deep, even bowl around his ears and head, a bald-patch right at the very back of his head making Kalvin think distantly of the scribes he'd seen on occasion around Lynna city. The fact that his ears were hidden made his heart ache a little. In Lynna a man with pointed ears was rarely distinguished from one with round because in the end they were all poor. What must it be like in Hyrule?

Neither one dared do more than offer a shy, scant look in his direction, swiftly dropping their eyes back down. Were they afraid of him? Wasn't there supposed to be a third one?

"Sorry if my compliments seem overdone." Kalvin said, breathing out a sigh and walking over to them. He folded his long legs comfortably under the low table, resting one arm on the warm stone surface. He spoke to the older boy since, of the two, he seemed more likely to lash out; he looked hungry. "My name is Kalvin, can I ask yo-?"

"No ye bloody well can't ye stupid chit!"

"Ye shut yer trap ye black-toothed weasle!"

Kalvin just sat and stared, he shouldn't have been dumb-founded but he was. And it wasn't really because of the language; children who grow up poor normally grow up a lot faster than they ought to. Honestly it was because he did feel rather stupid, touching a hand to the boys arm in front of him, the older one who'd jumped up in his defense and shouted suddenly. The twelve-year-old looked at him through exhausted, red-rimmed blue eyes and then collapsed back onto his seat on the floor.

Looking at the wall he saw the big, heavy alcove where his Host had taken to storing most of his party's on-the-road supplies that obviously weren't needed in Domain. Here that same shelf was being used to hold the third boy, the one who kept making all the sharp comments.

Sharp, that was a good word for him. There was no softness in his face or his thin, coiled body. His clothes could have fit a child some seven or eight winters but they were roomy on him anyways, his rope belt tied tight enough that Kalvin forgot his heart-ache for the scribe and felt it break for the boy huddled up like a frightened animal in the corner.

His angry red hands were scarred with burns and cuts that had healed crudly and with little care. His white shirt was frayed half-way up the forearm, exposing fleshless wrists and growing scabs that no round or two of washing could sooth. He'd need ointments and salves to cure the dry peeling of his skin, his legs much the same as Kalvin watched one hand dart unthinking to a knoby ankle to scratch viciously for a moment. Maybe he could convince Sally to part with some of her herbs and knowledge?

The the boy noticed he was staring and bared his teeth like a beast. He reached behind him on the shelf and wrapping an identical cloak to the Scribe's around himself, leaving only his blood-tipped ears, gold-brown hair, and furious green eyes exposed. He rethought the offer; would this boy even _take_ medicine from someone he didn't know or trust? _Could_ he trust?

"What's your name?" He expected a snarl, something vicious to match the hateful glare being shot at him. Instead the glaring continued without any change, he looked to the other two boys at the table with him, not sure how their hosts might have been interpreting all of this since Kalvin was a little in the dark himself. "All of you, what are your names?"

The scribe had his head down as far as he could manage, slowly rocking back and forth a little and beginning to gasp. His face was knotted in an expression Kalvin couldn't read. He looked to the older boy for clarification but found he'd drawn his knees up high and was resting his face down on them. What had they been put through to act like this?

"G-G-Gwydion..." That was from the scribe, Kalvin's concern growing as the rocking was becoming more pronounced, his stuttered breathing easily recognized as suppressed sobs.

"Gwydion, what's the matter? Why are you upset?"

"M-My leg..." Kalvin couldn't see it, but under the cloak he quickly made out the signs of the boy rubbing his thigh aggrivatedly, clearly in pain. One of the Gorons made a low sound in his throat and turned from the group, Kalvin watching just long enough to see he wasn't leaving before reaching a hand out and touching the scribe on the shoulder.

"What's wrong with it? Can you tell me?" Gwydion bent his head a little further, quickly shaking his head no as a tremble worked its way up his shoulders, a spasm contorting the boy's pale features before he forced it back down. He wasn't even ten...

"His leg is twisted, Brother. Born without strength." He'd heard the name Chakar and had come looking for Ingo, but he still didn't know the third Goron's name. Unable to really answer him then, Kalvin kept his peace while a small earthen bowl was brought over, a thin green liquid swirling inside with a bit of steam. "The journey was unkind and now his pain is constant and difficult to bear." Gwydion's eyes were filling with tears behind his glasses, one hand shaking as he reached out for the bowl. Kalvin helped him lift it up so the poor boy could drink some of the numbing tea.

"He didn't complain, we didn't know." That was from the eldest boy, face still resting against his knees. "He rode the mule all the way but lost his walkin' stick. Slept on rocks fer weeks..."

"And you are...?"

"... Arthur."

Gwydion pulled away a little and Kalvin set the bowl back down, the Scribe didn't look any better for the drink, his face continuing to twist as his face flushed up and a weak sob bubbled up past his lips. He wanted to get up and run for Sally as the boy's face crumbled into a hopeless, painful look and he dropped his head down on the table, weeping.

"I-I can read, I c-can write, m-make n-n-numbers a-all neat n'... I-I can...! Ow..! _Ow...! Ow...! B-Boss...!_" Boss? Oh, nevermind... he couldn't waste time on that now, his insides twisting in sympathy as he moved around closer, his hand moving up to hold the back of the scribe's head, the free one gently gripping his arm. He looked up at their hosts.

"Have you taken him to any of the healers at the Falls?" No doubt they'd be better supplied than Sally and her traveling bag. Chakar frowned.

"I spoke to Guide-Brother Darun yesterday, he has not answered yet. Requests for Healers take time, Brother." Yes, and that was fine for something like a cough or a sore back, but this wasn't something which could be put on ice and rested for a few hours...

"Brother, may I ask a favour of you? A message?" He spoke to the one whose name he _still_ didn't know, watching the surprise travel openly across the Messenger's face before he gave a stout nod.

"Of course, Brother, that is what Roller-Brothers do!" He tried to smile, but a weak cry from the boy next to him killed the expression.

"Please go to Guide-Brother Darun's dwelling. Please bring the woman named Sally here and tell her she needs to bring her medicines. Tell her of this boy's pain." Another firm nod followed by a loud clap over his right breast and the Goron quickly lumbered to the dwelling door. He ducked over into a ball and was rolling off a moment later. Chakar and Ingo were looking at him curiously, the expressions unmasked for that was the Goron way.

"My Healer would be upset if I didn't tell her, she has a large heart which is filled with love for her duties." That satisfied them. Kalvin went back to trying to comfort the poor boy at his side while their hosts quickly turned to one another, not bothering to keep their voices down, but not being especially loud either.

"Brother Chakar, we must talk of things but my dwelling is full now. Can we go to yours instead?"

"Of course, your dwelling is also bare of food, Brother, you and Talin will eat with me tonight."

They departed, it really was just that simple. He coaxed a few more mouthfuls of the tea past Gwydion's trembling lips before looking to Arthur.

"Where were you boys going when you arrived here?" The older boy looked up at him, then scowled down into his knees again and nodded his head towards the last member of their trio up on the shelf.

"Ask 'im."

Kalvin caught a glimpse of it before the third boy shot another nasty, fiery glare at him over the edge of his scruffy brown blanket. He saw a snatch of something that wasn't angry or feral or sharp. Was it concern for his friend? Maybe. Was it jealousy for the attention? Doubtful. Maybe a longing, but not jealousy, not right then. Kalvin was reminded of those badly healed scars on the boy's hands and solumnly set aside any notions of a considerate upbringing.

"Well, you heard the question, right? Where were you-"

"None o' yer business." He had the strongest slurr and accent of the three, and the worst manners by far. "Who're ye?" Oh, wonderful. It was something to already be worth speaking to, but Kalvin certainly had no idea what would get the boy to keep talking... Did he respect wit? Did politeness calm him? Well, wait, that last one was easy; no, he didn't like manners very much, otherwise he wouldn't keep interrupting every time Kalvin opened his mouth.

"I'm... not going to answer that... unless you give me your name." The boy bolted straight up like a shot, his tiny form fitting neatly on the wide shelf, legs crossed and hands gripping his knees tightly.

"_Who're ye?_" Kalvin bit his tongue, not hard, just enough to make sure he said the words right. Such a fierce child...

"That's not what I asked for." A spark went off behind those harsh green eyes. The boy's thin red lips peeling back in a snarl despite no such sound coming forth.

"His name's Sn-"

"Adolphus." Kalvin had only a split second to take in the faces of the other two before his eyes had to go back to the boy on the shelf. Arthur had a confused, curious expression on his face, Gwydion lifted his head up just a bit, still panting from the pain in his leg, and muttered something low.

"Y-ye never told me tha-"

"Shaddup, Pegleg!" Well, _that_ was certainly rude! Of all the things to call someone-! "Now, _who're ye!?" _Oh, but he'd made more progress going another route...

"Say it properly and I'll answer you... Adolphus." Using the boy's name made him bristle like a wet, blistered cat, if his teeth hadn't been so worn down and yellow he could have passed for a real beast.

"_Who. Are. You?_" That... really worked. No sense in burning a new bridge.

"My name is Kalvin, I'm from Lynna City. It's in-"

"South Labyrnna, th' colony." He blinked; very impressive. " 'e's not th' only 'un who can read a word." That was accompanied by a sharp nod in the scribe's direction. Kalvin frowned both at the tone and the swift return of his butchered speech. "Why're ye 'ere?" He gave the boy a flat look, the answer to that was flared nostrils and another snarling expression. "_Why are you here?_"

"There, it's not so hard to speak properly now is it?" He smiled and watched the boy calm his expression down to just a twitching eye. "I'm here trying to gain the favour of this nation to help the people of South Labrynna. I've traveled a long way to meet with them, maybe even with your king."

"He'll hang ye!" Startled, he looked from Adolphus over to Arthur's shocked expression. "Lookit yer ears he'll bloody hang a Roundy fool! Stuff ye like a pig and mouth yer head on his wall..." They were just boys, it was probably just gossip from their parents...

"Are you sure about that, Arthur?" The boy just stared at him a moment, then blinked and shook his head with a stunned look on his face. Then he did the same thing he had earlier, he nodded to the shelf.

"Ask 'im."

* * *

**Tee-hee~. Almost no real plot-movement but I'm still satisfied with the speed of the update, character developement, and worldbuilding. **


	14. Precocious Proletariats

**See, the upside of nobody actually reviewing is that I get to write this story out at exactly the pace and ordering that I wish. Downside is that this might make it slower or more confusing in places, but that's what reviews are for!**

**No reviews, no complaints, and this story's been getting too many hits for me to honestly believe NO ONE is reading it. :3**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Precocious Proletariats

Another week in Domain, another week of no answers or summons from the city's three main councils. It was enough to drive Kalvin insane but for the new, constant distractions of the three boys.

Lester didn't like them, but the Ambassador hardly liked anyone so there was little to be surprised about. Unlike Kalvin, _he_ also recieved a number of requests and spent the better part of the next seven days high atop the Falls to speak on Hollodrum's behalf. At the very least it meant that the Councils were actually doing something instead of sitting around waiting for Kalvin to rip his hair out and crawl into a corner to cry.

"I don't know why you waste your time with these things... Oh, wait, yes I do; _a_ _bleeding heart."_

Yoka's favourite seemed to be Arthur, not that the feelings were mutual as all three boys had almost gone into a panic at the sight of the Lizard-like Tokay. They still weren't fond of him, but the older boy seemed to be the most interesting for Yoka; his blonde hair was a drastic change from Kalvin and Sally's bright red and auburn, or Lester's black head, pointed ears were fun to pinch and got a startled yelp out of the boy each time. In exchange though Yoka knew his way around a blade better than most would expect, prefering the large mace he hadn't touched since their arrival in Domain but still knowing enough to give Arthur a few pointers.

"Tut-tut, Tokay! You sharpen the blade like this, you buff it like that, you hold with four fingers this way and one over them right there. You swing with arm not wrist and move feet not hips."

Sally, needless to say, fell head-over-heels for Gwydion. Lester called _him_ a bleeding heart but the moment his cousin set eyes on the poor scribe Sally fell all overself trying to comfort and sooth his every hurt and ache. True, she tended to all three of them and at his request she even made up a batch of a soothing blue paste for the third boy's itching skin, but the scribe, like it or not, found himself quickly stuck in her heart like a fly on glued paper.

"You're very good at this game, Gwydion! Have you ever played King's Men before? I think you have!"

Which left him to the third one, Adolphus. He didn't mind it, really, but like his hesitant companions, the fierce, angry child wouldn't have any of the attention. He was harsh, rude, impatient, and any other number of unflattering adjectives. The only redeeming feature was that the boy had a keen sense of bartering and trade. Give-and-get was the only way to get more than an angry snarl or vicious look out of him, or actual co-operation.

"_I want to go to th' city library._" It also kept him from butchering his speech quite so badly, though he had a nasty habit of puncturing each sylable with heated intensity. It made him sound a bit slow, but Kalvin knew it as just resentment for being made to speak differently.

"Let me put this on your skin first and then I'll-"

"I already talk like a bloody lummox an' ye s'pect me t'-!?"

"_Yes._ I expect you to _speak _like a human being, and to put this cream on your skin so it stops itching so much. Look! You're already scratching again!"

"Stupid witch cream ain't gonna do no good..."

"Then neither will reading. Domain is a huge city, you'll never find what you're looking for without my help." He wasn't sure the boy believed him but it was worth a shot anyways, waiting for a few tense minutes before one red hand lashed out at him, palm-up for the dollop of blue paste Kalvin spooned out for him. "Take your shirt off so I can get your back."

The boy did not like him, not one measly bit.

But he did like Domain's libraries. They were located above the Falls but access was unrestricted to citizens. Of course, since neither of them actually lived in Domain or the Alliance the boy still needed Kalvin to take him and show his Council-Granted permits to the various librarians and clerks. Each one felt inclined to question their presence since, despite the Alliance's size and prosperity, humans didn't make up a large chunk of the population.

"What are you looking for?" He asked the question when they arrived the first time and then held off until the third visit, catching the scrawny child's arm before he could vanish off into the nippy interior of the vaulted archives. "And if it's _'none o' me business'_, I can take my permit and go have lunch with Yoka." Sometimes, even if he didn't like it, it was better to sound just as mean at first so as to keep the arguing to a minimum.

"I wanna-" Kalvin didn't have to stop him anymore. "I _want_ _to_ know _about_ the war with Hyrule." It was a surprising request, but so had having the little scamp relate back the capital city of a colony he couldn't find on a map. Kalvin had half a mind to properly test just how much the boy knew about things. Sally had been testing Gwydion slowly as the days dragged by, and the library was as good a place as any to do the same for this one.

"Adol- stop that." Frowning, he waited half a minute until the boy dropped his hands down from his red-stained ears. "If you don't like being called that then why did you tell me?"

"'cause you asked me name so I gives it- and poppycock with yer frownin', ye damn'd well heard me!" Yes, but that didn't make the listening anymore enjoyable. "But I dun like it."

"Why not?"

"'cause _I don't like it."_

Blowing out past his lips, Kalvin took a minute to rub the backs of his hands in the chill space. They didn't have to worry about being so quiet in here despite it being a library. Sound carried well but they were up on a floor which by now he knew was rarely used. His breath showed up white here, the thousands of tomes edged in dry frost around them on the high shelves. These were older archives, far from the public desks and reading areas which were more accomodating for large Gorons and relaxing Zora. There were few seats, less heat, but countless volumes of impossible knowledge.

"Alright, Sneak." It was a strange nick-name, but he answered to it much better than his name. "If there are seven large tomes on each shelf, and there are three shelves, then-"

"Twen'y-one. I can count, I ain't daft."

"Not very polite either. Did Gwydion teach you your numbers?"

"Pegleg dun' teach me nothin'; I taught 'im!" Pegleg, Kalvin tried not to shiver at the name. Boys will be boys but Sally at least had had a minor fit when she'd heard the scribe's nickname the first time.

"Is that really true, Sneak?"

"No. But 'e didn' teach me nothin' neither." Watching as Sneak moved from one shelf to the next, the boy kept reaching into his trousers and pulling out a slip or two of paper, scanning the words apparently written there before stuffing them away again before Kalvin could get a glance at them. He twisted his head around to make sure none of the clerks were around before quickly walking up behind the boy and hooking his hands under the boy's arms where he'd started _climbing_ one of the shelves.

"Down, down..! Just ask next time, which one are you looking at?"

"Th' blue 'un." He sighed and set the boy down.

"_Which _one?"

"The. Blue. One. Gold bindin'." Kalvin looked along the shelf, quickly spotting the slim, gold-bound book the boy was refering to. And then he just stared at it, not moving save to glance back down at Sneak.

"Say it."

"No."

"Adolphu-"

"**Please** get the blue one!" That was more like it, he easily obliged the boy, looking past the snarling expression and chomping teeth.

"You're welcome... And you're interested in old political histories?" It wasn't hard to know which _'war with Hyrule_' Sneak was talking about, there had been boarder skermishes and disputes with both Hollodrum and Hyrule for decades after the Alliance had come together, extending into _centuries_ of harsh feelings with the Golden Land and supposedly from the regions far beyond Din's Red Mountains to the north. But none of those things could really be classified as wars, or at least not ones there was any way for Hylian orphan to know about.

"A little." That was how their week went.

* * *

Sneak didn't wake up well. Infact, he woke up bloody awful.

_'Justa dream, only a dream...'_ But a bad one, the sort that had his heart pounding hard in his chest. But it wasn't a nightmare about undead goats or starving to death on endless, rocky plains.

He was more or less convinced by now that Pegleg had been full of it and they weren't going to be eaten by the rock monsters or their fishy companions. He'd never had so much to eat in his life and it had put meat on him for the first time since... ever. His feet felt better, the odd man Kalvin and his friends -or maybe it was the woman Sally and _her_ friends- had had boots and shoes cobbled for the three of 'em, Sneak had a new shirt and Whimpers had been given a vest after the monocle-wearing man'd given up complaining about it. Pegleg had a new walkin' stick, and this time it wasn't one hacked from an old table.

He got up and slid off his shelf, careful not to wake Talin or Ingo though the two slept like the rocks they crunched and gnawed on for sup an' dinner. His feet didn't squish in their green-an-blue wraps anymore since he'd been told the cuts were healin' and the bruises were almost gone. Kalvin wanted him to have socks with his shoes but Sneak didn't think that was gonna happen, not minding much either as he quietly pulled the leather bits on around his sore feet.

Kalvin wanted a lot of things, and a lot of them were bloody stupid. '_Please'_ and _'thank you'_ were servin' boy's manners, not oven-rats like 'im.

_'But I ain't in th' kitchens no more.'_ So maybe it was okay not to talk quite like one here.

Even if there'd been a door to the apartment Sneak wouldn't have worried too much about getting caught by either of the Gorons. He missed the castle crawlspaces sometimes, but in a way this city was like those ducts blown up ten times their size. And it was also a lot like the castle since, so long as he kept quiet and didn't do nothing stupid, no one ever seemed to notice the little Hylian boy running around Domain's subterrainian streets in the middle of the night. Comparing Domain to Castle Town, Sneak oddly prefered the former.

Whimpers and Pegleg had taken to sleeping with the other humans who were in the city, four flights above where Sneak adamantly remained. Since Talin didn't eat man-flesh, he was endlessly better company than ooey-gooey Sally, the stuck-up Lester, or simpering Kalvin. Honestly, what with how Whimpers had behaved back in the castle and surrounding city, Sneak didn't know why he was putting up with the Roundy trio; Sneak just didn't want to deal with the unhealthy levels of attention.

His cloak had been properly cut and hemmed for him already and he had it with him as he scampered through the honeycomb of the city. It was getting further into fall since they'd already wasted the summer weeks traveling up the countryside, so it was good to have the extra layer as the roar of the Falls drew near.

He didn't go straight to the city's heart, but instead cut around the impressive columns of white water, digging his feet in deep so he could climb the steeper sections of rock already cut away by Goron backs. It got colder the closer he got to the libraries, frost collecting along the occasional jutting stone or too-steep step and glowing in the moonlight up overhead. He was tempted to stop and look at the giant, glowing silver disk in the sky, framed by Domain's stone walls, but tore his eyes away and put them back to work picking out landmarks along his path.

The Libraries were closed at this time of night, but Sneak still found a way inside tonight like he had four times already when not a soul was looking. It wasn't much different from the castle; kitchen whelps weren't allowed up where the Nobility walked and pretended to read their fancy books, but he still had. He shivered as the icy cold air of the library hit him and walked on.

He knew where to go; climbing the fluted stairwells and goron tracks until the paths became too cold and narrow for the day-to-day patrons to come by. The clerks never looked this way neither unless he was with Kalvin during the day, so with it empty he wasn't worried about noise or even setting something amiss as he passed. Rats or a bad bit of memory, they'd think, of only rats could sleep in frozen walls.

He'd been told not to climb the bookcases, but since the blubbering man wasn't here to _stop_ him this time Sneak didn't give it anymore thought than that before he was up checking titles and bindings six feet above the cold tiles. The archives were huge, and most of the books held nothing but obscure, trivial records. Sneak found it all interesting regardless, but that didn't make any of it _useful._

_BANG. CLOP. BOOM._

He'd been at it for four nights on his own and no-one'd been the wiser, dropping the alternatingly heavy tomes and flimsy pamflets down from their high shelves to the floor. It helped get the first bits of ice and frost off them anyways, which meant he didn't have to pry and stretch as hard to get them open and the pages apart so he could figure out if there was any sense to the old scratchings.

Holding two last books against him, Sneak dropped back to the floor, pleased with himself as he didn't lose his balance and fall over on his backside. His specialties were sneaking, skulking and crawling around without a sound; not jumping and climbing like a castle spider.

Lifting the books up onto one of the nearby tables, he was in a section of shelves and tables that Kalvin hadn't let him over to yet on their previous visits. Actually, it helped Sneak keep in mind where he had been versus where he hadn't yet, so maybe the man's irritatingly methoical practices had a point. He climbed silently up into the black-aged chair, leaning up to murmur the few words into the lamp to get the stone inside to shine, before he settled down to combing through the volumes in front of him.

Those stones had damned near given him a heart-attack the first time he'd seen them, magics were forbidden in sane places like Hyrule, but apparently not Hollodrum or the Goron and Zora homelands. The last Hylian noble to make the mistake of advocating for sages had been Lady Cornelia; she'd lost her pretty little head screaming about it some five centuries back.

The first books was useless, the second had a glimmer of something but the authors went no deeper. He shoved them away and let the third one join them- he'd been so sure the one with the Goron stamp would be useful too. He read about the injustices done by Hyrule; another account of the Great Fires of Din in the Gerudo Mesa, the slaughters in Kakariko before the Ordering had finished taking place. He even found a bloody _battle map _from the war but not what he was looking for. Another six or seven books later and he was getting ready to either schimmy back up the shelves for another load or give up for the night and go to bed...

But then he thought about what had woken him up again, the same thing that had roused him from sleep four other times already. He cracked another binding and found something.

"..._Blimey._" On the frosted-white page staring up at him was an inked and coal-coloured drawing, the book was five of Sneak's hands high and three wide, but only two fingers deep. The image wasn't a castle but it was similar, his head looking for the word he should've known but instead he looked at all the spilling waterfalls and barred windows. It wasn't a prison, but it was...

_Din's Bane_

Well, what did that bloody-well mean? Sniffing at the title, Sneak took another enchanted look at the drawing before flipping the stiff page over.

_Five centuries after the Disappearance of the Hero and in the wake of the Solumn Revolution, the Citadel Din's Bane is the first true, recorded merger between Goron stonework and Zora hydrolics, and has broken knew ground in all areas of construction, architecture and design in our new Nation. Zora's Domain, now renamed simply the 'Domain', will be a marvel of cross-bred styles._

It read in the present and future tenses, maybe this had been a journal like the kinds Lester was always talking about? But present-tense would mean recent, common knowledge, doing the math quickly in his head trying to recall other dates he'd read here in the library, Din's Bane rung no bells and he'd already seen notations from six and seven centuries after Zelda III's rule. This was old... so where was the citadel? He flipped through another series of pages, stopping to admire the various pages of sketches and details, skimming footnotes in the margins.

_The highest, coldest mountain in the Western Range, Shiverpeak has remained uninhabited by Goron Brothers for many centuries due to it's inhospitable climate. The decision to use Shiverpeak was spurred on by political tensions in the area which borders closely along Hyrule's north eastern edge. The citadel will serve as an important outpost to monitor the nearby summer passes through the Goron Range for as long as is necessary._

He skipped a few more pages...

_The body of Din's Bane is completely unfriendly and inhospitable towards the third Goddess, though a devotional temple is being built in North Labrynna and is scheduled for completion in another two years. Filled with water-ways and hydrolic pumps, the citadel rests within Shiverpeak's largest, oldest glacier and thus has no connection to the living earth. Petra-Phosphera, commonly known as glowstones, provide what light does not filter in through the citadel's hundreds of skylights and reflective mirrors. The stonework throughout Din's Bane is sandstone built atop a foundation of strong heartwood, iron, and immpenatrable blue ice._

But why? Another chapter slipped past his fingers.

_In the inner sanctum lies the true heart of the citadel. This chamber of blue crystal and watery currents safeguards the heavenly artefact retrieved from Hyrule Castle at the end of the Solumn Revolt. Ventilated with the harsh arctic winds which gust across Shiverpeak's glaciers, the infusion of wind and water under the guardianship of the Earth Sage will help ensure for generations to come that-_

There we go! He had his answers and breathed out a quiet, excited laugh in the cold chamber. Prying his eyes from the frozen texts he thumbed the corner of the page he was reading and began flipping back through the book. When was the last time anyone had taken a glance at this? Who would be the next? There were dozens more articles in here; what was the Tower of Ambi? Temple of Seasons? Whatever they were the sketches and drawings were fantastic; he didn't want to let it go.

But how was he supposed to get it out of the library? Alright, sure so that part was easy, but not the streets of Domain, and certainly not into Pegleg's saddlebags... Not this big and not up the side of a glacier...

Frustrated, he dropped back in his seat and glared at the open book again, watching the fading light of the lamp cause the frost to glitter; he could feel the sun beginning to rise outside. He'd have to decide fast what he was gonna do, or do nothing.

No, he had to do something, and he knew what but there were so _many_ different somethings he could do it to. He closed the book, looking over the cover and tracing the designs on the front with his fingers. Then he shut his eyes and flipped the cover aside, taking up the frosty pages and beginning to leaf them back and forth between his fingers. He fanned through them so fast that even if he'd been looking he couldn't have seen which one he finally stopped on, palm down flat over the page before he edged his fingers up over the corner of the page, took firm grip of the spine with his other hand and-

_Riiiiiiip_.

Quickly folded the page up half a dozen times, stuffed it down the pocket of his britches, shut the amazing book and ran off as fast as he could to get down and out of the archives before the first of the clerks showed up for their morning rounds.

* * *

"You're going back to Labrynna after th' council talks to ye- to you."

Sally looked up from her pressings, the thick, leather-bound book holding all the herbs she was familiar with and had recently come into contact with along this journey. She gave a sweet smile to see Yoka's new protege standing in front of her, then glanced quietly around the small dwelling to where Gwydion was sleeping after a draught she'd given him for his leg.

"I'll go where Kalvin needs me to go, he's my cousin afterall." Threading her fingers together, she leaned forward a little and took off the slim spectacles she often wore when reading or examining her notes. Yoka's new nesting buddy was fidgeting his hands, awkwardly fingering the callouses the Tokay had put on his palms from clearly unwanted sword-practice. His white-gold hair was shimmering in the amberlight- the glowing yellow-brown veins which ran through the streets of Domain to give it light without the sun.

"He wouldn' send you nowheres dangerous, would 'e?" She scoffed at him gently, watching him fidget all the more since she knew he was uncomfortable around them as a group. It was a cultural thing, Gwydion was similar in that he seemed to pity her, Kalvin and Lester for being _'lesser-born' _than him.

These poor children, to have grown up like their parents and grandparents believing something so... strange. But it was similar in Labrynna, almost the same after their visit back after growing up in Horon city.

"Not unless he really, really needed me somewhere, then no, never to danger." She answered. Now, Lester? More likely, the man could talk and threaten his way out of a Like-Like's devouring embrace.

Her amusement with the absent ambassador faultered as she watched the boy by the door. His expression changed, or something in the light made it look... different. Setting her pressbook down, Sally quickly checked where the scribe was still sleeping before standing up, tilting her head at the other boy.

"Arthur, are you alright?" Crossing the floor she knelt down just in front of the doorway, the boy now half-turned away from her, but he hadn't run off.

"Take 'im with you." Sally blinked.

"_What?_"

"Take 'im with you, _please_." He was looking past her at where his friend was still asleep on one of the small cots they kept. Kalvin had thought Gwydion was eight, but the scribe had politely corrected him saying he was twelve, like Arthur in front of her. Still, it was hard to believe that sometimes; even Kalvin's little devil Adolphus kept an extra ear and an eye out for the Scribe, was it really all because of an infrimity and his blood giving him something as... unconsiquencial as Arthur having blue eyes instead of Sneak's green?

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

"Somethin' bad'll happen to 'im if you don't take 'im..!" She balked, partially the sincereity and the other at how... insane it was! It sounded like he wanted to abandon his friend...

"We were _going _to take all three of you, but you can't just avoid the question-"

"We'll _you're_ avoiding an answer too! Will you take him?" Sally blinked at him, watching the distress suddenly play across his features as he was facing her properly, but didn't seem able to keep his eyes on her face. "I'unno where Sneak's heading, but I know I gotta go with 'im and he ain't gonna turn around now and go followin' you guys 'round. I-I thought it was just a treasure-hunt for 'im, but it just ain't."

"What is it then?" She'd thought it was a crazy idea to begin with, Lester having been the one to draw out the fact that all three were either orphaned or wouldn't deign to answer the question -like Sneak- before Sally could blow up at them about driving their mothers sick with worry for pulling this stunt. Trying to get Arthur to look at her where she was kneeling in front of him, it made sense that it wasn't _'just' _anything, they'd nearly killed themselves running across a country they hardly knew into a nation they _certainly_ had no idea about.

"If I don't go then somethin' bad'll happen t' Sneak." What was this? Prophecy? "But if you don't take Pegleg, somethin' _worse_ will happen to him..."

* * *

**I'm not impressed with the length of this chapter, but hopefully the next one will be longer. I also need to work Boss back into things.**

* * *


End file.
